tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-76929952603511815942024-03-29T07:28:26.547+00:00Teaching, training, rebuking and inspiringMusings inspired by my Twitter ProfileAdrianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09507501095053062156noreply@blogger.comBlogger124125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692995260351181594.post-32848833101053829502024-01-28T17:24:00.002+00:002024-01-28T22:45:28.029+00:00Go Your Own Way<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbTgm5Uia_aoe4AuzmEmnu6JutjyIC0EyErXTJMDewa54VHxnDsY3Jp9PDT8dXdzp2R2bdaB8rckP9kPLPetSIIY1n-85fdvCZlrQWkgA1ndUgWIqPSuI4_rSRh84a0yMVDySP0LLiVzJSwRWIZdGEeWGzvRWt2wASzxpAChc4gMeE6YeAKyC92reLEPg/s4128/1.%20MDI.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3096" data-original-width="4128" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbTgm5Uia_aoe4AuzmEmnu6JutjyIC0EyErXTJMDewa54VHxnDsY3Jp9PDT8dXdzp2R2bdaB8rckP9kPLPetSIIY1n-85fdvCZlrQWkgA1ndUgWIqPSuI4_rSRh84a0yMVDySP0LLiVzJSwRWIZdGEeWGzvRWt2wASzxpAChc4gMeE6YeAKyC92reLEPg/w400-h300/1.%20MDI.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I developed Type One Diabetes just
over 26 years ago, in December 1997. I have often said that it was a good moment
to join that “club that nobody wants to join” in terms both of my own age and
circumstances (I was aged 40, married with three children, settled in life and
work) and in terms of diabetes management and treatment (beyond the days of
glass syringes, primitive inaccurate blood tests etc.)<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Yet even since 1997, things have
got markedly better, with the past decade or so having brought two significant
advances: The first a quantum leap forward in technological support for those
living with the condition; the second the growth of diabetes peer support
communities linked by social media networks. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The advances in diabetes
technology were neatly highlighted by the nice coincidence that my most recent
“diaversary” just before Christmas (19<sup>th</sup> December, marking 26 years
of the condition) coincided with the final announcement of NICE guidelines
about the use of closed loop technology for those in the UK living with Type
One, the culmination of a remarkably quick process which started with the
arrival of the first mass market non-invasive glucose monitor - the FreeStyle
Libre - ten years earlier. Those of us living with Type One under the care of
the NHS are indeed blessed with a level of support for our condition which is
the envy of the world. The leadership and accessibility of Partha Kar has been
instrumental in making this happen, however much he protests that he is “just
doing his job”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The growth of peer support
fuelled by social media connectivity shows no sign of slowing down, and has
achieved a good deal, albeit that the sheer numbers involved mean that it has
lost its early intimacy and has inevitably led to a degree of empire building
and thinly disguised rivalry between individuals and groups.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">These two advances mean that nobody
can deny that here in the UK, people living with Type One are well served by
the healthcare system and by the community of people living with the condition who
are keen to share experiences, expertise and friendship.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">And yet…<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">There is increasingly a nagging
feeling in my mind that I’m being left behind, a feeling complicated by the
sense that I’m actually perfectly happy to be left behind. What’s going on? It
doesn't quite make sense, so permit me to explain.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Forgive the self-analysis here,
but in general terms, I like to believe that I am fairly adaptable to changing
times. Although I grew up in the pre-digital age, I have embraced that revolution
with appreciation rather than the resentment and bewilderment which I often see
in others of my own age, let alone those older than me. I do not eulogise the
“good old days”, but rather I positively enjoy and greatly appreciate the
comfort and convenience of the world in which I am growing old. I spend way too
much of my life glued to my phone, like the overgrown kid that I am. I am fully
“digitised”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I therefore had no hesitation in
taking up Abbott's groundbreaking FreeStyle Libre at the earliest opportunity,
and in subsequently embracing its evolution into a de facto CGM using my
smartphone rather than the reader. Moreover, I was among those singing the
praises of this device from its earliest days thanks to my early adoption of
the online diabetes community which coalesced from around 2012 onwards. It was
the diabetes community that first alerted me to these advances in technology,
and it remains a source of great pride to me that I played a small but
significant part in the campaign to get this life-changing technology onto the
NHS prescription tariff in 2017.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">However, I now find myself being
left behind as others embrace pumping for insulin delivery and closed loop
systems to automate this process to a good extent. I feel a bit like the man
who bought a top-of the range VHS video player in the late 1980s and refused to
embrace DVDs, or the man who bought a stack of DVDs and CDs in the 1990s and now
refuses to subscribe to Spotify or Netflix.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I am, by nature, a creature of
habit with little taste for adventure and no thirst for the unknown. The facts
about me speak for themselves: I’ve been married to the same woman for 40+
years; lived in the same town for 36 years; taught in the same school for 36
years; banked with the same bank since I left university; I’m now driving my 6<sup>th</sup>
successive Mitsubishi; I’ve been with 02 since it was BT Cellnet, firmly wedded
to Android rather than Apple, and I feel guilty and disloyal whenever I am
eventually persuaded to change energy supplier in search of a cheaper deal. I
am inertia personified in some respects.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Small wonder, then, that I am
perfectly happy with “just” my insulin pens: <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I know what I like and I like
what I know </i></b>could have been coined to describe me.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I have therefore watched with
interest rather than envy as the Type One world has gone closed loop crazy.
Social media timelines are filled with posts testifying to the life-changing
effect of what some term an “artificial pancreas”, with screenshots of flat
overnight blood sugar lines or of Strava maps telling the world that its author
has been on a run freed from the need to fret about its effect on sugar levels.
To be honest, these have started to become something of a bore.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">And here I sit, armed only with
my FreeStyle Libre and my ageing insulin pens, with a time in range of around
75%, an Hba1c of around 50 and no enduring sense that my life has been ruined
by diabetes. Do I want an insulin pump? Do I want it to be linked to a CGM to
take over the management of my diabetes?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The truthful answer is “I’m not
at all sure I can be bothered”. I’ve got better things to do with my life than
to learn the ins and outs, the tips and tricks of a pump when my own tried and
tested “hit and hope” methodology continues to serve me well. Yes, I get hypos
and hypers, but armed with a Libre I can and do correct with micro doses or
snacks in a manner which works well for a largely home-based retired life. If I
were still working, I’m pretty sure that I might think rather differently.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">However I do often wonder why, if
all this automation is supposed to be so liberating, it appears to occupy so
much of peoples’ time and energy. I never see any posts by people - still the
majority - using MDI, and I sense that’s at least in part because many of them,
like me, prefer to just inject and get on with their lives. My strategy for
living with diabetes has always been to keep it in the background where it
belongs. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">So am I opposed to the continued
rollout of technology? Absolutely not. I firmly believe in “each to their own”,
and I am well aware that there are many for whom a more automated approach is a
godsend. And they are NOT all youngsters – I know many PWD of my age and older
who swear by the life-changing benefits of looping.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Will I continue to resist the use
of a pump and an HCL? I don’t know – ask me again every few years!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Do I think there are other
issues, at least as urgent, arguably more, that perhaps should get the same
level of effort, publicity and indeed funding that have driven the “rise of the
machines”? <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I most certainly do.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I’ll pick out three:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Firstly, I'd like to see the
spread of non-invasive glucose monitoring on prescription to those living with
Type Two diabetes. The phrase <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">knowledge is power</i></b> is often applied
in a healthcare context, and despite the recent progress in linking CGM to
insulin delivery, I still believe that knowing BG levels and their predicted
direction of travel, and knowing what the effects of different foods and levels
of exercise have on blood sugar levels provides for many the key to better
understanding of, and hence better self-management of <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">all</i></b> types of diabetes.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Secondly, I'd like a reform and
standardisation of the education given to people with diabetes at or soon after
diagnosis. Another over-used cliché springs to mind - “education, education,
education”, and I have a strong sense that there is huge variation on the
availability, timing and delivery of education, and that the DAFNE and DESMOND
models, with their somewhat rigid teachings, have been allowed to dominate to
the exclusion of more streamlined models better suited to this age of busy
lives and flexible working hours.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Thirdly, I would love to see a
real and sustained investment in the understanding and treatment of the
hitherto under-reported psychological aspects of living with such a burdensome
and stigmatising condition. The recent publication of the parliamentary report
into disordered eating among those living with Type One shone a light on this
scandalously neglected issue. This one is close to my heart, as my best friend
is among those affected and among those most engaged in the calls for better
understanding and more integrated care, but it struck me very strongly how many
other names and faces familiar to me from the online communities have been to
some extent living with this debilitating and dangerous add-on to Type One.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">So there we are: the outlook for
people with Type One is vastly better today here in the UK than it was
even 25 years ago, let alone a century ago when insulin therapy changed Type
One from a death sentence to a manageable burden. Yet this situation brings its own challenges at a time of ever-increasing demands upon the limited
resources of any healthcare system, the NHS more than any. I hope that we can
continue to roll out pumps and loops to all who need or indeed want them, but
at the same time, I hope that we in the UK will also count our blessings and
make sure that other deserving, and in many cases more urgent, calls on scarce
funds can be met.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I close by reiterating what is
often said, but is so important: <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Your diabetes, your way. </i></b>There’s
enough factionalism out there, and this post is absolutely NOT intended to
criticise those who have shown such drive and enthusiasm for the advance of
technology, be they patient advocates or healthcare professionals. These people
have been truly heroic and have achieved unimaginable progress in a remarkably
short time.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">But we must remember that, just
as in everyday life where not everybody wants a smartphone, a smart TV,
state-of-the art satnav and suchlike, not everyone wants their diabetes to be
managed by technology. How many programmes on your washing machine do you
actually use? How many apps on your smart TV do you completely ignore? And do
you never get irritated by the constant bleeps and warnings, the sheer
information overload, given by modern cars? Technology is wonderful, but can be
too much of a good thing for some. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">It's the same with diabetes
technology: an insulin pump with closed loop is not much help if you live with
diabulimia.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I am not extreme on this, but I
do hope that other urgent needs of the diabetes community will not be
overlooked or underfunded amidst the scramble for diabetes tech. Despite what
the hashtag says, diabetes tech <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">can</b>
wait - for some of us.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">As the song (and my title of this
post) says, <b><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><a href="https://open.spotify.com/track/07GvNcU1WdyZJq3XxP0kZa?si=337d974e1b654fca" target="_blank"><span style="color: #2b00fe;">Go Your own Way</span></a></i></b> - and I’ll go mine.</span><o:p></o:p></p>Adrianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09507501095053062156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692995260351181594.post-43279674802392927352024-01-19T09:28:00.008+00:002024-01-29T16:53:52.341+00:00Sit Down (next to me): Why men need a shed.<p><br /></p><!--StartFragment-->
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Over the past three years, I have
found myself heavily involved in my local community in a manner which has
occupied my time and my mind, suiting very well this stage of my life: retired
from a busy and all-consuming job, yet still with the energy both physical and
mental to commit to voluntary work. Perhaps the best of several aspects of
community life in which I am involved has been my part in helping to set up and
run a <b><i>Men’s Shed</i></b>.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Never heard of a Men’s Shed? Neither
had I until just over a year ago. Bear with me while I tell the story - <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">How
Kirkham got its shed.</i></b><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Kirkham, the town which I have
lived in or near for towards 40 years, has since 2020 been the fortunate
beneficiary of some significant government funding to help regenerate it in
both physical and social terms. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Kirkham is a small (population
approximately 8000) market town in the Fylde district of Lancashire. If you are
unsure of the geography of this part of the world, the Fylde is the name for the
largely flat, rectangular area which lies between the Lune estuary in the
North, the Ribble Estuary in the South, the M6 motorway in the East and the seaside
towns of Fleetwood, Blackpool and Lytham St Anne’s in the West. Historically,
it was called <i>Amounderness</i> and was one of the <i>hundreds</i> (an archaic term
for an administrative subdivision of a larger region)
of Lancashire.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kirkham,_Lancashire" target="_blank"><i><span style="color: #2b00fe;">Kirkham</span></i></a> is an ancient town,
established on the site of a 1<sup>st</sup> century Roman cavalry hill fort, and
named before 1066, after the church which is said to date from 684AD. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For much of its history Kirkham was a town of
some importance, an administrative and ecclesiastical capital of the Amounderness
Hundred, and a market town serving a wide and prosperous agricultural
hinterland. In the 18<sup>th</sup> and 19<sup>th</sup> centuries, it prospered
as a centre for the manufacture of flax and rope, with the golden age of
sailing ships providing a ready market for such products: it is said that at
the time of the Napoleonic Wars, very much a highpoint of British naval power,
much of the Royal Navy was powered by sails made in or near Kirkham. When
cotton superseded flax, Kirkham’s mills adapted to that trade, but by the 20<sup>th</sup>
century, the town was in long-term decline, and found itself the poor relation
to the might of industrial Preston to the East and bright and breezy Blackpool
to the West.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">It nevertheless retained a level
of prosperity through the turbulence of the 20<sup>th</sup> century, boosted by
the nearby defence industry (BAE Systems has a vast military aircraft factory
at nearby Warton, on the site of a wartime American Air Force base) and also by
the desirability of semi-rural life which has made market towns so popular for
lifestyle reasons in the later 20<sup>th</sup> and early 21<sup>st</sup>
centuries.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Nevertheless by the early 2000s
Kirkham was beginning to look and feel down on its luck, its high street shops
and businesses unable to compete with the double threat of the online world and
the giant retail parks of nearby towns.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">When, just before the Covid-19
pandemic of 2020-2022, small towns across the UK were invited to bid for funds
to regenerate their high streets, Kirkham was an ideal candidate, and was
awarded significant government funding aimed at enhancing its town centre as a
hub for small businesses and niche retail and leisure whilst also developing community
spirit, pride and a greater sense of wellbeing among residents.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">It is fair to say the programme
has not been plain sailing: the double whammy of the Pandemic followed by the
inflationary spike sparked by the Ukraine War caused delays and a big hit to
the spending power of the original funding, such that the physical regeneration
plans had to be significantly scaled back. The redevelopment of the Market
Square into a traffic free events space, and the remodelling of the main street
into a more pedestrian-friendly thoroughfare are both projects which will, I
believe, greatly enhance the townscape, but in the short term the road works
have proved to be lengthy, disruptive and riddled with unforeseen snags and
delays, such that the whole project has been an easy target for those who
object to it. The loss of what was perceived as a car park - the Market Square -
has provoked anger among those who cannot see the bigger picture of how small
town centres must evolve if they are to survive and prosper.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">So much for the negatives - how
about the positives?<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Well, the less tangible, but
equally important, strands of the regeneration project have been much more
successful, and have very much served their purpose of enhancing pride,
community spirit and an awareness of local history and heritage.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Moreover, it has been my good
fortune to find myself a key player in these aspects. My accidental involvement
in local history has caused me to be a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">de
facto</i> curator of the Town’s Local History and Heritage Collection, the
remnants of what was once a town museum. This happened because when the owner
of that collection, an eminent local historian, died in 2021, his family asked
the Parish Church, through me, if they could house and exhibit it. I offered to
oversee this project, and set up a small Local History and Heritage Collection in
a redeveloped gallery in the church building.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>By so doing, I found myself wrongly cast as a local history expert - I
always stress that I am an enthusiast, not an expert. I was nevertheless happy to
be drawn into various cultural and heritage projects which were being run in
the town, funded by the regeneration monies.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">These have been pretty
successful, providing activities and camaraderie for local people, uncovering
some previously hidden talents, creating lasting heirlooms for the town which I
am only too glad to help display and care for in the Church’s community rooms.<o:p></o:p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs3UD9CBb3M_RzoT73ZoY_aW9tIXu6GOP3902p6DvBRmLhoY9JPQTKqjRfZjWYk3Ev0LBSsm3Px1J5e4Gpuj-8WZF8yBGtG046cHI8iMITXyyArtmuW6ilLlaGSAtlcRU9Iy3YjXMjljbW8rxVNSLGtTpS9EMubLRjCNabUbQsIvV7CSWVd2BvwmcblGU/s2574/20221231_104043.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="762" data-original-width="2574" height="119" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs3UD9CBb3M_RzoT73ZoY_aW9tIXu6GOP3902p6DvBRmLhoY9JPQTKqjRfZjWYk3Ev0LBSsm3Px1J5e4Gpuj-8WZF8yBGtG046cHI8iMITXyyArtmuW6ilLlaGSAtlcRU9Iy3YjXMjljbW8rxVNSLGtTpS9EMubLRjCNabUbQsIvV7CSWVd2BvwmcblGU/w400-h119/20221231_104043.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>A tapestry depicting Kirkham’s industrial heritage, created by one of the craft groups</b></td></tr></tbody></table>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">However, early in these projects,
a glaringly obvious thing became apparent: virtually all participants were
female. Not at all unusual or unexpected, but in this conservative (small ‘c’)
community a pretty extreme case: groups involved in things like exercise, local
history, gardening, cooking, arts and crafts and so on all flourished thanks to
the expertise of facilitators and yet largely failed to attract any male
participants. The women participants all reported that their involvement had
improved their sense of belonging, made them new connections and friendships,
and had generally improved their mental health and sense of wellbeing. A great
outcome, indeed a valid return on the investment of public funds, yet one which
was only reaching around 50% of the population.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">One day, in late 2022, as
virtually the only male with any level of involvement in these wellbeing
projects - and that only because of my own perceived expertise as an events
organiser - I was discussing this issue with one of the (female) facilitators,
in the presence of my son (a science teacher at the local high school) and
another male friend. My son mentioned what all teachers know, that virtually
all voluntary projects attract more girls than boys, and that such reticence on
the part of most men is an engrained and lifelong trait, and a potentially
harmful thing. Girls and women readily form close friendship ties which
engender self-care and mutual support, whereas men and boys tend to do things
like sports and hobbies yet without the self-care.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">My son mentioned that he had heard
of a movement which orginated in Australia called “<a href="https://menssheds.org.uk/" target="_blank"><span style="color: #2b00fe;">Men’s Sheds</span></a>”, whereby a hub is set up in a
shed where men can gather and undertake traditionally “male” activities - DIY,
model-making etc. - and in so doing they are gently drawn into sharing their
concerns, worries, stories and everything in a way that men generally don’t do.
At that point, a visitor from Australia overheard us and chipped in with
confirmation that Men’s Sheds were indeed very much a thing in her homeland, regarded as a common and effective tool for improving social cohesion and wellbeing. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">A serendipitous overhearing by a
visitor to our town, but things have a habit of turning out well if they are
meant to be, and so it has proved with Kirkham’s Men’s Shed: following some
rather theoretical chat that we could maybe set up a shed locally, we realised
that our church possessed a highly suitable brick built shed, well over a hundred
years in age, which was used to house gardening equipment for the churchyard
and also as a store for anything that the church didn’t dare throw away. We
started to speculate as to whether we could set up our metaphorical shed in
this physical shed. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfp8w2gNkwbDey7rValm6JRz2NF_zFHtPzVJWR8NuQrTX0Y1geo7LHekgQNajWGtIRbHyKeA40cInq2wtBiz-u29Cib06bq7G0ioH6qOyaSRUqmFDwpdfoLTIW1nfSHXlGqRbTydYHm1qC7DXvgtgPl5X7QgrYw8Z666a5mmcVIL8TXB028RSe2BKkc10/s689/Shed%20Pic.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="420" data-original-width="689" height="244" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfp8w2gNkwbDey7rValm6JRz2NF_zFHtPzVJWR8NuQrTX0Y1geo7LHekgQNajWGtIRbHyKeA40cInq2wtBiz-u29Cib06bq7G0ioH6qOyaSRUqmFDwpdfoLTIW1nfSHXlGqRbTydYHm1qC7DXvgtgPl5X7QgrYw8Z666a5mmcVIL8TXB028RSe2BKkc10/w400-h244/Shed%20Pic.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>The Shed: a familiar feature of the churchyard for decades</i></b></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Then, another stroke of
serendipitous good fortune: the Practice Manager at my GP Practice, who knew
that I was involved in various community groups, messaged me to say that she
had identified a source of NHS funding for new wellbeing projects and wondered
whether I was aware of any deserving projects which might be interested in
applying. Literally off the top of my head during a phone chat with her, I
mentioned our Men's Shed idea, and she was immediately struck by the plan. In
healthcare circles, <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">social prescribing</i></b> is very much in vogue, and with the
well-known reticence of men to ask for help and the consequential high prevalence
of mental illness, even suicide, among men of all ages, there is a growing
feeling that low-key, low cost solutions based in the community have a role to
play in addressing this problem. The Practice Manager urged me to apply for
funding and promised her strong support. </p><div><div style="text-align: justify;">It had started to look like an
idea worth pursuing, and without anyone actually ever deciding it or appointing
us, two individuals emerged with the time, the enthusiasm and the expertise to
make it happen: one was me, the other a longstanding friend and associate of
mine, a few years younger than me but in fact an ex-pupil from my first year in
teaching. His and my paths had crossed in several areas over the years, notably
as fellow churchgoers and as committee members of our school’s alumni
association, and he is a freelance management consultant and project manager by
profession, so a great fit for getting a project up and running.</div><div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">So, we applied for funds and were
duly awarded the full amount on offer. The shed was in a way ready and waiting,
although it required a good de-clutter, and we decided to launch the project
without delay. This was in June 2023.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Six months on, its success has
been remarkable. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">The first stage was easy, almost
too easy: a number of individuals came forward who were either members of the
church congregation or men already known to the church community. Among these
were my son, who is one of the churchwardens and was the instigator of the idea
and the Vicar, a new incumbent keen to grow and develop the church’s community
outreach work. Another was a community “good egg” who was loosely associated
with the church and keen to do his bit for the good of others.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">However, the real challenge was
to reach out to men in the community who were not connected to the church, and
who might be beneficiaries in terms of wellbeing, rather than just men wanting
to help run a worthy project. A key challenge was to balance the very real
involvement and support of the church - we were, after all, using their shed -
without people feeling that this was a church group as such. Men are relatively thin
on the ground in most church congregations, and are often indifferent or even
hostile to the church either as a place of religious acts of worship or as a
doer of good works.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">So we made it known through
various channels, including local GP practices, the Town Council, the town’s
football club’s community foundation and so on, and within a very short time,
men emerged - some known to us, many entirely new to us. Among them were an
elderly widower who had been coming to the church literally every day since
losing his wife some six years previously, and who had hitherto kept himself to
himself, lighting a candle and spending time alone with his thoughts then
returning to his home in nearby Blackpool; a man whose young adult daughter had
died suddenly and unexpectedly; a man who had lost most of his sight and been
forced to retire early from a job as a DT teacher; several others who had
simply lost the confidence to engage with others in later life; and indeed a
prisoner from the nearby Open Prison who had been on work placement at the
church and was looking to reintegrate himself into more normal social circles
as he neared release at the end of a long sentence. We requested and were
granted permission for him to attend the Shed meetings on condition that he was
back at the prison by a specified time, under our supervision.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix8uD_jj94OQrLJf6c6h5xbuVmFL8QsW78gbDiCCEc6RBCVInMJk9kXZNbJ3ECycQiE7dzJm4NHvXTptUeojKAj_hLs4aqau7iT9WELhNFSWxRIlvsxPv1bVpgb5TYmLJtSpkS7k2NYvYx89YluMkCeKN1Dd3flZAUxQ1wyylO0Qk4a60FvNc32-fewJo/s2048/FB_IMG_1690822175413.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix8uD_jj94OQrLJf6c6h5xbuVmFL8QsW78gbDiCCEc6RBCVInMJk9kXZNbJ3ECycQiE7dzJm4NHvXTptUeojKAj_hLs4aqau7iT9WELhNFSWxRIlvsxPv1bVpgb5TYmLJtSpkS7k2NYvYx89YluMkCeKN1Dd3flZAUxQ1wyylO0Qk4a60FvNc32-fewJo/w400-h300/FB_IMG_1690822175413.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>A planning meeting in the shed with advisors from local councils, <br />NHS and AFC Fylde Football Club</i></b></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"></span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTRcKt4mpWKxQ5UtI4cEcGQyIhWz8j0aA1J3xn5VlvtvKLdBwRGIJ_2ze4oBsdBlaBBhPsYyIEm4hxQ1xU20O6svB-eENoBzOG_w8PefVd29yPnTbMHCGRCaNaCz7NDAPKRIxd11pZ8cb1tx50aeEduAQL5ief8LzFyfFTRkXO6d42GFP7sHAuP-J7-aM/s4000/20230614_184701.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTRcKt4mpWKxQ5UtI4cEcGQyIhWz8j0aA1J3xn5VlvtvKLdBwRGIJ_2ze4oBsdBlaBBhPsYyIEm4hxQ1xU20O6svB-eENoBzOG_w8PefVd29yPnTbMHCGRCaNaCz7NDAPKRIxd11pZ8cb1tx50aeEduAQL5ief8LzFyfFTRkXO6d42GFP7sHAuP-J7-aM/w240-h320/20230614_184701.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>Planting wildflowers, June 2024</i></b></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="text-align: left;">Tasks started to come our way: a
project to transform parts of the churchyard into a wildflower meadow in areas
where ancient graves were no longer actively tended by grieving families;
another to build some wooden benches to replace damaged and worn out ones in
the churchyard; another to carry out a full assessment of the stability of
gravestones, a statutary requirement of all churches; another to paint hi-vis
strips on some steps around the churchyard which presented a real trip hazard;
then perhaps best of all, we were commissioned by the Town Council to design
and build a new stable in which to place the Town’s nativity figures in the
town centre’s Christmas display.</span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">This latter project was a joy to
watch unfold: one man took the lead, designed something, literally on the back
of an envelope, and bought the wood. With a tight deadline, others helped out
when possible, under his direction, eventually completing it with minutes to
spare until the deadline that we had agreed with the Council. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">A beautiful,
traditional Crib scene was duly installed in the town centre gardens, unveiled by the
Mayor and blessed by the Vicar at a simple ceremony with children from local
primary schools, and subsequently admired and appreciated by all.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi08bKR8tMtBirLq1cHE3DztItCZz9HqZKOdpN-7hhw3jGiykpiy0rQt5pJTVj8cx4wa-1mCFJ9qyykeu_VH7J5kMHrvwCiW_P1KRbVf4cQAq1_3dS5Jd5LcZum3JflUwtroNf05kLGgzT7AmdS6FfsGSaFvpGQdInN5FhNIyexoFJ1PKHETqCwY_dBXgc/s2363/20231124_144004.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2145" data-original-width="2363" height="363" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi08bKR8tMtBirLq1cHE3DztItCZz9HqZKOdpN-7hhw3jGiykpiy0rQt5pJTVj8cx4wa-1mCFJ9qyykeu_VH7J5kMHrvwCiW_P1KRbVf4cQAq1_3dS5Jd5LcZum3JflUwtroNf05kLGgzT7AmdS6FfsGSaFvpGQdInN5FhNIyexoFJ1PKHETqCwY_dBXgc/w400-h363/20231124_144004.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>"All our own work": Kirkham's brand new Nativity Scene</i></b></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidItkiVKBhyQXxq2TlTIQHTaJZdM3HXWidHK4geFBapoTd99UGPU9HDhQ-shzwa7-uRjuxo9y9n6YRw9swXQR58-K8W63E0pFylBEmEqSiqX9rIIbekyoPsE4U7jqtrptqMqRXPIh6w1g4GYpKVPvYTXy-1g3DRvyqaowBcfIYFEeVQvtpZVJICGMW1uE/s4000/20231204_182951.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidItkiVKBhyQXxq2TlTIQHTaJZdM3HXWidHK4geFBapoTd99UGPU9HDhQ-shzwa7-uRjuxo9y9n6YRw9swXQR58-K8W63E0pFylBEmEqSiqX9rIIbekyoPsE4U7jqtrptqMqRXPIh6w1g4GYpKVPvYTXy-1g3DRvyqaowBcfIYFEeVQvtpZVJICGMW1uE/w400-h300/20231204_182951.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>Blessing the crib, December 2023</i></b></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">But best of all, amongst all this
busy-ness, are the times through this bleakest of winters when frankly it has
been too cold and too dark to do any work and the men have just sat and chatted,
exchanging anecdotes and gems of wisdom, chewing the fat over what’s going on
in the town or in the world outside - all over a warming cup of tea. No banter,
no laddishness, no dirty jokes, none of that dreadful thing which Donald Trump
called “locker room talk” in a pathetic attempt to explain away his loathsome misogyny
- just a group of men sitting with an unspoken but very real sense of belonging
and of camaraderie. One of the original members, a busy family man with no
apparent “need” for such a wellbeing project, put it perfectly when he recently
said <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“This was the thing I didn’t even
know I needed in my life”</i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">So yes, it’s great to get things
done, and the sense of achievement from a shared task or project is enormous,
but above all, as the cliché goes: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“it’s
good to talk”.</i> And if it takes a shed to make men feel able to talk, so be
it. Never did simply sitting down feel more productive.<o:p></o:p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidYmTZOwVPEV5ZrBPynzKq2_n5uHdkNoA_xdQgqMNIWUEyVJtOkfxe-HLJ92r1K6F9kN8-j3Ii88EC0f42zEu_VKNhEMr4qIuglT-YGsa2jdAjmQkFPpMbnsVITumoakziEBR-ikQoNjpu9UsDyJM7kn3UR6RyJQng6O9AR9PaUtIHlHtDuhH3waunya0/s4000/20231213_190943.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidYmTZOwVPEV5ZrBPynzKq2_n5uHdkNoA_xdQgqMNIWUEyVJtOkfxe-HLJ92r1K6F9kN8-j3Ii88EC0f42zEu_VKNhEMr4qIuglT-YGsa2jdAjmQkFPpMbnsVITumoakziEBR-ikQoNjpu9UsDyJM7kn3UR6RyJQng6O9AR9PaUtIHlHtDuhH3waunya0/w400-h300/20231213_190943.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>Men at work</i></b></td></tr></tbody></table>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">For my blog posts, there is
always a song to provide a title, and what better than these words from <i style="font-weight: bold;"><a href="https://open.spotify.com/track/66IC0uXoVyYT5q3R27bbZy?si=476c62460b584a18" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">Sit Down</span></a>, </i>an anthemic hit by forgotten 90s Madchester band James:<o:p></o:p></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Those who feel the breath of
sadness<o:p></o:p></i></b></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Sit down next to me<o:p></o:p></i></b></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Those who find they're touched by
madness<o:p></o:p></i></b></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Sit down next to me<o:p></o:p></i></b></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Those who find themselves
ridiculous<o:p></o:p></i></b></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Sit down next to me<o:p></o:p></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">After all, over these winter months, all we've done is sit down and chat. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">For anyone reading this who works in healthcare,
especially in general practice, I cannot overstate the value
of Men’s Sheds based on my thoroughly positive, albeit limited experience. Social prescribing may
sound like a passing fad, but from what I’ve seen it really can achieve a great
deal of good at very little cost.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Keep taking the tablets? Maybe,
but why not just <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Sit down next to me?<o:p></o:p></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><o:p> </o:p></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">In case this post seems somewhat
self-congratulatory in tone, I must acknowledge many individuals and organisations
who have helped or supported this project:<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">My son, Nick Long for making me
aware of Men's Sheds; project leader Chris Malings; Sue Flowers and her Phoenix Rising
Wellbeing Group; Helen Leece from the Gathering Fields Retreats; Ash Tree House
GP Practice; the Vicar and PCC of St Michael's Parish Church Kirkham; Kirkham Town
Council; Fylde Borough Council; Lancashire County Council; AFC Fylde Community Foundation;
and perhaps above all the men who have attended and participated in our activities.</span></span></b></p>
<!--EndFragment--></div></div>Adrianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09507501095053062156noreply@blogger.com0St Micahel's Parish Church, Kirkham, Preston PR4 2SE, UK53.7839166 -2.870953253.782648798749108 -2.8730989672119143 53.785184401250888 -2.8688074327880861tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692995260351181594.post-25442620248215974562023-12-03T19:13:00.002+00:002023-12-05T13:55:09.842+00:00Wait for the Lord: why Advent really matters.<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 18.6667px;">Advent brings into sharp focus the gap between the sacred world and the secular world, yet in so doing also highlights the way in which Christian principles and disciplines can have a value in the secular world.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 18.6667px;">The way in which society appears genuinely unable to wait for the true joy of Christmas is a source of sadness rather than anger to me. </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">So…what are the best words for this day,
Advent Sunday?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">How about <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Happy New Year? <o:p></o:p></i></b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">In the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">secular</i>
world, we are still four weeks away from saying that, but in the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">sacred</i> world, those are the correct
greetings for today. Today marks the start of the Church’s year, although among
those who have no church affiliation, this fact probably passes them by
entirely.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">But that’s the point of what I’d like to share
with you today: the glaring gulf between the <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">sacred</i></b> and the <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">secular,
</i></b>which is perhaps at its most visible during the season of Advent <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">My theme in a word? <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Contrasts</i></b>. My message in
a word? <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Patience.</i></b><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Bear with me….<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">You don’t need me to tell you that the secular
world thinks it’s already Christmas, and has been for several weeks. Many
houses are displaying trees in windows and lights in gardens. I saw Christmas goods
in some shops whilst sweltering in that September heatwave. Christmas ads on TV
started weeks ago, and I suffered a distressingly early <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Whamageddon </i></b>when enjoying
a walk in the sunshine along London’s South Bank as long ago as November 17<sup>th</sup>:
I heard the unmistakeable voice of George Michael and that sleigh bell backing
track coming from inside a market stall selling mulled wine. And worse than
that, a week later I caught myself singing along with Maria Carey on my car
radio. Father, forgive me - I should have changed the station. As a penance, perhaps
I should say 20 <i>Maranathas</i>.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">The <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">secular</i></b> world is already bedecked in
golds, greens, reds and sparkly tinsel.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">But in the <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">sacred</i></b> world, today we
have turned purple, the colour shared with Lent, symbolising restraint and
penitence.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUXa6qz2wgSOMy4MSwlA95fQ4NaONtMV6TEBFk0g3oPvHgLt-V5A690dAwekN47l1hsVtZ2LkdrQaILVIUxCrfw7n9yN4YmGVI4jNicstYTzQF4KAAbs0rO8qs3O7-vOMQ-UyxyHxGjIwP5jvL7tc4DGVicfBacjbHMjpoQbgMiwvPnWmXz2E2lfC_GDk/s1133/Screenshot_20231203-185741.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1133" data-original-width="996" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUXa6qz2wgSOMy4MSwlA95fQ4NaONtMV6TEBFk0g3oPvHgLt-V5A690dAwekN47l1hsVtZ2LkdrQaILVIUxCrfw7n9yN4YmGVI4jNicstYTzQF4KAAbs0rO8qs3O7-vOMQ-UyxyHxGjIwP5jvL7tc4DGVicfBacjbHMjpoQbgMiwvPnWmXz2E2lfC_GDk/w351-h400/Screenshot_20231203-185741.jpg" width="351" /></a></div><br /><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: left;">Today we enter the beautiful season of </span><b style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: left;"><i>Advent</i></b><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: left;"> - a period in which the church is restrained, dignified and anything but celebratory, jolly and joyful. If we in the church are to be true to ourselves, then for these next four weeks we really are at odds with the secular world in a manner which can be truly challenging. But that shouldn’t stop us addressing that challenge.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Now we have to be pragmatic, and of course in
reality, we can’t pretend Christmas isn’t coming. If we are to celebrate and enjoy
Christmas, we obviously need to engage in some aspects of it in these weeks
leading up to the festival. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Buying and wrapping gifts, sending cards,
putting up decorations, planning menus, enjoying concerts, events and parties
with our friends and colleagues is all part of Christmas, and clearly that
can’t <b><i>all</i></b> be done on or after the 25th. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">But do we have to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">completely</i> overlook the notion of a season of preparation, of
Advent? The practice of a period of preparation and abstinence in advance of a
joyful feast is, after all, common to many other religions, and they are invariably
rather better at it than we are - most notably Islam, with Ramadan followed by
Eid. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Preparation, abstinence and reflection
followed by celebration and indulgence is, surely, good for the soul. Or to put
it another way, celebration and indulgence <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">without
</i>some measure of restraint and context in advance of it is surely <b><i>not</i></b>
good for the soul.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">As a society, we have become very bad at <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">waiting</i></b>
for anything, at any form of delayed gratification, and I plead as guilty as
anyone to this. This sermon risks having a sense of finger pointing, so it’s a
good moment to remind myself of that old Sunday School cliché from my childhood
- when you point a finger at others, always remember that there are three
fingers pointing back at you. I’m as impatient as anyone, and not always very
good at waiting. Fast Food, seven-day opening, same-day delivery and Amazon
Prime mean that many of us have forgotten what it means to wait for anything. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">I grew up in the days of “allow 28 days for
delivery”, which these days seems like a joke. Who would wait 28 days for
anything?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Yet waiting is, surely, good for us. A bit of
imposed patience never did anyone any harm. It’s a given of good parenting not
to give in to children’s every “I want”, not to indulge their every wish, for
fear of spoiling them, yet we as adults perhaps don’t practise what we preach. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Religion has taught us to believe some pretty
daft stuff over the years, and to an extent it still sometimes does. Yet at its
heart, Christianity is just love - human decency - laced with a good dose of
practical <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">common sense</i></b>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Surely we
don’t need a government minister to teach us common sense - the Christian faith
does it so much better. One of the things which I most appreciate about
practising Christianity is the way in which it gives a pattern and a rhythm to
our lives which is so in tune with the patterns and rhythms of nature itself,
if that doesn’t sound too flaky. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">By hijacking pre-Christian, pagan midwinter
celebrations, Christianity taps into our need for some light and cheerfulness,
“in the bleak midwinter”. And in the context of Advent, by encouraging us to
wait patiently for the fun and festivity, it taps into a bit of useful psychology
and self-discipline. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Back to Advent Sunday: I said it was the New
Year, and what do we do at New Year? We make <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">resolutions</i>. So the Church’s New Year is surely also a good moment
for a resolution, and my suggestion - again, to myself as much as to all of us -
is that we get a bit better at separating the sacred from the secular, as
Advent can and does teach us. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Separating the sacred from the secular is
actually often about learning a bit of restraint, and learning to wait. A bit
of self-discipline if you like.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Now of course, in order to remain relevant in
today’s world, the church needs to embrace the secular world and in so doing to
sacrifice some principles and reach some compromises. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Our great cathedrals here in the UK have
proved themselves to be spectacularly good at this compromise, throwing their
doors open to concerts, conferences, degree ceremonies, exhibitions and
goodness knows what else, as well as staging acts of worship for the faithful.
A few years ago, Norwich Cathedral had a helter-skelter in its nave for a whole
summer season. Chester Cathedral has staged a fabulous model railway exhibition
in its South Chancel these past three summers hosted by none other than music
impresario-turned train buff Pete Waterman. A few weeks ago I was at Evensong
at Newcastle Cathedral and we the congregation were hustled out with unseemly
haste because they were preparing the building for that evening’s concert of -
I kid you not - “<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Meat Loaf by Candlelight</i></b>”. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">That’s right, Meat Loaf performed by a rock
band in a cathedral nave. I’m pretty sure some of those deans and bishops
buried in that cathedral were spinning in their graves that evening to the
strains of <i>Bat out of Hell</i>. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Yet secularisation of churches is a necessary,
and often a very good thing. Frankly, it helps pay the bills! Only last week,
this very <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>building was transformed into
a bustling market place, and Santa Claus, the Patron Saint of Coca Cola, drew
hundreds of children and their families into a holy place whose doors they
would seldom if ever darken for the purposes of Christian witness. And I am in
many ways personally responsible for the increased secular use of this
building, having devised and organised concerts, lectures and exhibitions here since
I took leadership of the bicentenary programme in 2022. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Yet I would be the first to urge caution and
restraint. If we make greater use of our building for secular purposes, we surely
need to be even more careful to distinguish between those purposes and the
church’s core function as a sacred space for worship. And yes, this means perhaps
being more vigilant about how we conduct ourselves within these walls on a
Sunday. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">I was raised on a behaviour rightly adhered to
by traditional churchgoers, succinctly expressed in these words: <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“before
the service, speak to God; during the service; let God speak to you; after the
service, speak to each other”.</i></b><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Simple, old-fashioned, potentially unfriendly,
but I still try to adhere to it in my own conduct. In a church like this, the
beauty of the place and the organ voluntary are there to help us to do so. If I
could ask for one resolution from the people of churchgoers, it would be that
we all agreed to prepare for our worship with a period of silent reflection. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">It's about <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">contrast</b>: the contrast between our often hectic and noisy everyday secular
world and the sacred world within these walls. And it's also all about <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">patience</i></b>:
waiting for the Lord. And that, above all, is what Advent teaches us. The value
of contrasts, and the importance of waiting.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">So instead of joining Noddy Holder in shouting
“It’s Christmassss!” from December 1<sup>st</sup>, may I suggest that it’s
better for us, and actually more fun, to</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> enjoy Advent for what it is? A season
of reflection and anticipation, with its own beautiful words and music. The
carols can wait.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Then when Christmas finally comes, we can enjoy
all 12 days of it, and I shall be saying "Happy Christmas" until
January 6th, when much of the secular world will have long since moved on and
started eating Creme Eggs.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Today’s gospel told us that the fig tree
reminds us that the Lord is near. Near, but not here yet. Let’s learn to <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Wait
for the Lord: </i></b>our choir can express that better than I can with this
familiar Taizé chorus: I invite you to spend these next few minutes in
reflection and anticipation while we listen to them.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Amen<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><b><i>For the purposes of this post and its title, here's a <a href="https://open.spotify.com/track/57sWPb8QyveulvwgZODkxd?si=DUSM0xxaQICsrsms1axTug" target="_blank">Spotify link</a> to that hauntingly appropriate Taizé song:</i></b></span></p>
<!--EndFragment-->Adrianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09507501095053062156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692995260351181594.post-92109718642554376692023-05-02T12:10:00.003+01:002023-05-02T14:31:03.220+01:00Come Together: thoughts from the Diabetes UK Professional Conference 2023<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I spent two busy but enjoyable days in Liverpool last week attending
part of the Diabetes UK Professional Conference, having earlier this year been
appointed as Chair of the charity's patient group, the <b><i><a href="https://www.diabetes.org.uk/get_involved/volunteer/diabetes-lived-experience-advisory-committee#:~:text=The%20Diabetes%20Lived%20Experience%20Advisory,through%20regular%20consultation%20and%20involvement." target="_blank"><span style="color: #2b00fe;">Diabetes Lived Experience Advisory Committee</span></a></i></b>.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDiJQXNUUy_GD_2mC0PS-ECd9ESLMSRcDRbcLXF7BS4WwKhyWwzTUGNfAQNf5UR_tPk-vhsf_B-CkJ0ZCTZXgWbFA07INPH7w43fTjjigYfOfJqtuyJ7hCNzj_GVQ9K0o5E00TFfkqHJoDrM0JypHt5uLYkzNuPnkx58js-K0P6ntJvTMIZLy4l5lt/s4000/20230426_154641.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDiJQXNUUy_GD_2mC0PS-ECd9ESLMSRcDRbcLXF7BS4WwKhyWwzTUGNfAQNf5UR_tPk-vhsf_B-CkJ0ZCTZXgWbFA07INPH7w43fTjjigYfOfJqtuyJ7hCNzj_GVQ9K0o5E00TFfkqHJoDrM0JypHt5uLYkzNuPnkx58js-K0P6ntJvTMIZLy4l5lt/w400-h300/20230426_154641.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I was there as one of three representatives of this group, free
to attend any of the lectures and presentations, and to meet and mix with the
hundreds of HCPs at all levels who attend this three day event. As its name
suggests, the conference is organised first and foremost for healthcare
professionals in the field of diabetes care, and over the years it has become
very much THE get-together of diabetes HCPs, attended by not only the big names
in the field, but also rank and file NHS staff, with places highly valued and
sought after. In addition, like any such healthcare gathering, there is the
accompanying “trade fair”, at which pharmaceutical and medical technology
companies get a chance to display their wares to those whose job is to assess, prescribe,
and administer them. It’s an impressive event, administratively and logistically
challenging, not to say costly, but my over-riding sense is that it is a hugely
worthwhile and successful exercise.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The conference has left two salient points in my mind, and
when thoughts such as these get stuck in my mind, it always seems worth sharing
them, to see to what extent others feel likewise. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The first is simply the fact that conferences like this are
very, very valuable. Sadly, other commitments meant that I could only attend
for two days, but my time at Liverpool was more than enough to remind me just
how useful and important such events are.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Zoom, Teams and the like were a lifesaver during the pandemic
but to experience this flagship conference, happening fully in person for the
first time since 2019, was a forceful reminder of the value of face-to-face
conferences. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Easily dismissed as "jollies", gatherings of
professionals in any field are surely of inestimable value, even if that value
is perhaps hard to quantify: As well as the formal content, it was a joy to
witness and indeed to be part of the coffee break chats, the lunches, even the
after-hours drinks. I always felt that way when I was fortunate enough to
attend day or residential conferences and courses during my own working career
as a schoolteacher, and I remain as convinced as ever. ”Comparing notes”, even
in snatched conversations over a coffee is of immense benefit to anyone in any
walk of life, often a precious and reassuring reminder that whatever challenges
and difficulties we are facing, someone, somewhere else is also facing it. A
problem shared is, indeed, a problem halved.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">For me personally, to catch up with so many of the valued
friends and acquaintances whom I have been lucky to make among HCPs, diabetes
charities and diabetes tech companies was a pleasure. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">This brings me neatly to my second point: to what extent
should the likes of me, a “patient”, be at an event like this? What, if
anything, is the value of lived experience in improving and developing diabetes
care?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Over the years, and particularly over the past decade or so,
it has become an increasingly accepted wisdom that the voice of lived
experience should be front, left and centre at diabetes conferences. A popular
hashtag in diabetes social media is <b><i>#NothingAboutUsWithoutUs, </i></b>a line
borne of frustration from the days when people with diabetes were too often
treated like naughty children, their condition described as “poorly controlled”
and their attitude as “non-compliant”. In many ways, this goes hand-in-hand
with the <b><i>Language Matters </i></b>movement, which has done so much to modify
stigmatizing terminology used by HCPs and in so doing to also modify attitudes.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">So in a sense, it’s the proverbial no-brainer: those living
with a condition should indeed have a voice where those who treat it are
gathered together. Over the past week, when diabetes social media here in the
UK have been full of content about the week’s events in Liverpool, it has been
easy to find calls for the lived experience voice to be present at every
lecture, discussion or symposium.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Perhaps surprisingly, given my four years of membership of
the Diabetes UK Patient group, and my recently adopted position as Chair, I
find my enthusiasm for the idea of ubiquitous lived experience participation to
be somewhat nuanced, and this worries me. Surely, a strong patient voice is
unequivocally a good thing?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Well of course the lived experience voice is a good thing,
but I do feel that there is a risk that we overplay the controversy, egged on,
perhaps by angry advocates rather than the voice of the majority. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Firstly, because I think there is sometimes a place for
humility, for acknowledging that the professionals actually do know best, and
that they have a right to meet together and exchange views privately. The
loudest voices calling for ubiquitous lived experience involvement are almost
by definition those most engaged with and expert in their condition, but few if
any have the breadth, depth and variety of experience of HCPs. In my profession
- teaching - I was a consistent and sometimes lone voice in advocating student
involvement in the teaching and learning process, in the formulation and
execution of policies, and especially in assessing and measuring progress. However,
to deny altogether that the teacher knows more than the learner is a betrayal
of logic: sometimes, teacher <i>does</i>
know best. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">One of the most absurd pieces of so-called wisdom that gained
popularity in some quarters during the run-up to the Brexit vote in 2016 was
Michael Gove's “I think the people in this country have had enough of experts”.
An example of the damaging populism that drove the political process during
that era, Gove's soundbite was both arrogant and delusional. Advanced human
society is built upon expertise at every level: “to each according to their
need, from each according to their ability” is how a civilised society ensures
that we benefit collectively from the specialist skills of others, not least
when it comes to healthcare. Far from having had enough of experts, I am deeply
grateful for them, and in terms of my own diabetes, I am grateful not only for
the pioneering expertise that brought us injectable insulin just over a century
ago, but also for the technical expertise of those who have driven such
spectacular advances in diabetes technology over the past decade or so.
Listening to some of the content in lectures at DUKPC, I was left not so much
with a burning desire to be represented, but rather a feeling of humble gratitude
that there are people as clever as that working on better ways to treat and
care for me.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Now of course there are areas when the patient voice is not
just valuable, but crucial, and indeed still under-represented. The emerging
area of diabetes psychology springs most readily to mind, where there is surely
a vast amount to be learned by professionals listening to the voice of lived
experience rather than trying to apply theory to practice. <i>Walk a mile in
our shoes before telling us how it feels to walk in our shoes</i> is surely how diabetes
psychology should be applied, and I have heard alarming tales from a friend who
lives with a diabetes-related eating disorder of the mis-application of theory in
a manner which is counter-productive at best, harmful at worst. So yes, the
voice of lived experience can be crucial in advancing the work of experts, but
should always be offered and accepted collaboratively, rather than
confrontationally.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Indeed I can’t help wondering whether here in the UK at
least, we are actually pushing at an open door. In personal terms, what struck
me most as I travelled home from Liverpool and reflected on my experience there
was how a conference like this one is in fact a wonderful coming together of
ALL stakeholders in the world of diabetes. When I had the chance to address the
Diabetes UK HCP Council on the eve of the conference about the value of peer
support, I was keen to make the point that in the UK, we are uniquely blessed
with a diabetes community in which the overwhelming majority of HCPs are already
respectful of and receptive to the expertise of their patients. Moreover, the
very fact that it is a diabetes charity, not a professional association, which
organises this event, is significant: we are exceptionally well served in the
UK by our NHS and by our diabetes charities. Who needs angry advocates when we
are blessed with the passionate, driven healthcare professionals who have brought
about such spectacular advances in technology access for people living with
Type One, or charities like Diabetes UK and JDRF who are driven by a passion
for improving care and pursuing the elusive cure?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijdH2vu1f83gQm9TMpJJltTXW4cN_YUfbagOx1Wt_eTko5UroYgUd7wNJCC25KlmtXYHW8c8zgek7wf-5xrM5ejkKsDTuwiEL8p8p3XvyD-jUNlGpcBPxgRc7QhqRrnRpJq3K6Sk6ZHPhWkeiUbparfIKBPD-rP95RRlx3wW_zU8FZQZKdq53Apr5B/s3682/original_0de51810-6719-4d14-b9ed-d03b5726f396_20230426_152900.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2249" data-original-width="3682" height="244" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijdH2vu1f83gQm9TMpJJltTXW4cN_YUfbagOx1Wt_eTko5UroYgUd7wNJCC25KlmtXYHW8c8zgek7wf-5xrM5ejkKsDTuwiEL8p8p3XvyD-jUNlGpcBPxgRc7QhqRrnRpJq3K6Sk6ZHPhWkeiUbparfIKBPD-rP95RRlx3wW_zU8FZQZKdq53Apr5B/w400-h244/original_0de51810-6719-4d14-b9ed-d03b5726f396_20230426_152900.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>Together at conference: Partha Kar, Diabetes Lead for NHS England<br />with Karen Addington & Chris Askew, <br />CEOs of JDRF & Diabetes UK respectively. And me.</i></b></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">DUKPC is, above all else, a collaborative event, a chance for
the community to </span><b style="font-size: 12pt;"><i><a href="https://open.spotify.com/track/3CEFDHJSiERlfwRujZ1CkJ?si=9144c32db6924617" target="_blank"><span style="color: #2b00fe;">Come Together</span></a></i></b><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> (there's the customary song title if you click on the link,
with a deliberate Beatles/Liverpool slant). A chance for the experts to do their
thing, a chance for the companies to sell their wares, a chance for the
professionals to hear from their patients where appropriate, and a chance for
the charities and support groups to care and share.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><b><i><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Nothing about us without us</span></i></b><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">? Of course the voice of lived
experience should be at the centre of diabetes care, but I’m not actually sure
that we need to sound quite so angry about it. Maybe, just maybe, diabetes care
is an area in which we British are actually quite well served on a global scale, thanks in no small part to the voice of lived experience.
The remarkable reach of Flash or CGM - 90% of people living with Type One
- has been achieved by passion and
determination on the part of HCPs (led by Partha Kar) informed, encouraged and supported by the patient
community with which many HCPs have so willingly engaged over the past decade or so.
<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">We in the UK have had much reason to feel rather ashamed and second rate over
recent years, and the air of crisis which accompanies the NHS remains a severe
and very real cause for concern. But this should not blind us to what has been
achieved in the world of diabetes care, especially Type One care, and the fact
that this has come about by such a collaborative effort. It was achieved not by
shouting at each other and demanding better representation, but rather by a
mutual realisation that collaboration and cooperation are almost always how
progress is achieved.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpCv83o21Dcb3Nq43Irv2aRSOuslry7DEvBV-VbjNpsGAyfXTJE40IF-rQmWV5Ew9JKWZW5MLT0T_qwh2r342hLqI42buIlBWjUAS0Pg6PiJMPNtjCSo3vQPiEl3ZplMKQs8QznnqxexMaDKMNMZqig51fhxlTAtoLsnOR2MMHMF-xNIxvLZul0cxZ/s773/Quaker_Tapestry_Exhibition_038.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="140" data-original-width="773" height="73" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpCv83o21Dcb3Nq43Irv2aRSOuslry7DEvBV-VbjNpsGAyfXTJE40IF-rQmWV5Ew9JKWZW5MLT0T_qwh2r342hLqI42buIlBWjUAS0Pg6PiJMPNtjCSo3vQPiEl3ZplMKQs8QznnqxexMaDKMNMZqig51fhxlTAtoLsnOR2MMHMF-xNIxvLZul0cxZ/w400-h73/Quaker_Tapestry_Exhibition_038.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The real challenge, and one in which I hope I can play a
small part over the coming two years, is to spread this success into care for
people living with all types of diabetes.</span><span style="text-align: left;"> </span><p></p>Adrianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09507501095053062156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692995260351181594.post-30182063633485601032023-02-01T17:24:00.013+00:002023-02-03T10:56:34.359+00:00Radio Gaga<p><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">It often seems that
there are plenty of things for people to get annoyed and upset about these days,
and I sense that we're getting too good at getting annoyed. In reality that probably isn't true: it's just that the internet has given us somewhere to express our
annoyance, and some people have accepted that gift with tiresome glee.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Some of the things
that cause annoyance really do matter - our own wellbeing or that that of our
loved ones; questions regarding the morality and integrity of those in
positions of power and influence; political policies and decisions; issues
specific to our own lives, our families, our workplaces, or our neighbourhood.
Other things arouse passions and strong opinions but actually don’t matter at
all: most obviously sport and entertainment. The passions and anger that sport
generates, if kept proportionate and in check, provide a valuable safety valve
for anger and emotions that might otherwise become destructive.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">A lot of our anger and
frustration is these days termed “First World problems” - things that
annoy and frustrate us which are in reality little or no cause for real suffering,
and stem from the fact that many of us are spoilt by the relative luxury in
which we live compared to previous generations, and to many people in other
parts of the world. </span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt;">We should all try to
remain aware that a sense of proportion is important regarding whatever is
annoying us. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt;">So with that preamble out of the way, I'm going to write about
something that has annoyed me, and by all accounts many others, in recent times
and especially in recent weeks: radio, and in particular some changes over
recent months to BBC Radio 2, the soundtrack to the lives of so many, and in
particular to older adults like me.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The on-air
announcement by 71-year-old <b><i>Ken Bruce</i></b> that he had chosen to step down from his
long-running mid-morning slot on Radio 2 created a surprising amount of response
and reaction, and has fed into a narrative which many feel is a pattern since
the appointment of a new controller, <b><i>Helen Thomas</i></b>. Following soon after the
enforced departure of another veteran presenter from a long-held slot, <b><i>Steve
Wright</i></b>, it is hard to resist the conclusion that Ms Thomas is seeking to lower
the average age of presenters, to “update” the prevailing style of music played
and hence to target a younger audience.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibCwRW0EuP7aatSO-0glE78-Vus3AVaIOsuYXSgxiPlIEoryQcIEAT6NY-Ai1bSiCGNi5k9B9WkE7JEszHpZZucaxxFG16eB7XPG2ogDThi-f5_DlY6gi_jsDc9S19aRQdTdDgaEu2iNnuZGd2VDBP9nQFiUSUT1Fqjg8lexhY48FHDmXhQAheySH-/s300/KB.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="168" data-original-width="300" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibCwRW0EuP7aatSO-0glE78-Vus3AVaIOsuYXSgxiPlIEoryQcIEAT6NY-Ai1bSiCGNi5k9B9WkE7JEszHpZZucaxxFG16eB7XPG2ogDThi-f5_DlY6gi_jsDc9S19aRQdTdDgaEu2iNnuZGd2VDBP9nQFiUSUT1Fqjg8lexhY48FHDmXhQAheySH-/w320-h179/KB.jpeg" title="Ken Bruce" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>Ken Bruce</i></b></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The simplistic
reaction is to smile knowlingly and say “that's life, change happens etc”, to leave
the baby boomers to whinge about it until they find another radio station
playing “their” music and something else to complain about from the comfort of
their index-linked pension fuelled lifestyle.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">We have, after all,
been here before, thirty years ago, when Matthew Bannister took over as
controller of Radio One and purged that station of the “Smashy and Nicey”
generation which was, like the typical listener of the time, growing older.
Then, as now, many listeners reacted with dismay, accused the BBC of ageism and
in many cases defected to other, commercial, stations. Nothing lasts forever.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Matthew Bannister's changes
came at the start of what proved to be a pivotal time in the history of rock
and pop, when the decline of the “hit single”, of “the charts” and later of the
purchase of physical music recordings was just starting to be felt. </span></span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt;">A generation which had
grown up with “pop” music, very much </span><b style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt;"><i>their</i></b><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt;"> music as opposed to
that of their parents and grandparents, was growing older and refusing to grow
out of what was thought to be a phenomenon of rebellious youth. Back in the
day, older people were like your proverbial granny in Slade's </span><i style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt;">Merry
Christmas, Everybody</i><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt;">, telling you that “the old songs are the best”,
meaning gentle, melodic tunes.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">But as we aged, we, the
baby boomer generation were, like Noddy Holder's granny, “up and rock and rolling
with the rest”. We not only carried on listening to rock and roll, sixties pop,
seventies glam rock, punk and new wave, but we also embraced the music being
enjoyed by the next generations. This phenomenon was already apparent at the
time of Bannister's infamous purge of Radio One, with the Britpop explosion of
the mid nineties proving to be the last hurrah of hit singles and physical
music recordings, and artists like Oasis, Blur, Pulp, Suede, the Lightning
Seeds and many others, not to mention teen idols like The Spice Girls, Take
That and Boyzone producing songs which owed everything to the sixties and
seventies, and appealed to kids, parents and grandparents alike.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">And that's where it
started to get complicated: Bannister's purge of the DLTs, the Tony Blackburns,
the Simon Bates, the Steve Wrights of this world sent them to Radio 2 or to
commercial radio, and there they might have stayed, endlessly recycling their </span><i style="font-size: 12pt;">fab
and groovy </i><span style="font-size: 12pt;">hits to an ageing audience, were it not for the for the fact
that the older generation was still liking the new stuff, and the younger
generation was liking the old stuff.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">My own children grew
up listening to my 60s, 70s and 80s CD collection, and rather than thinking of
it as “old people's music”, they loved it just as I had done at their age. Music
by The Beatles, The Stones, The Eagles, Queen, Fleetwood Mac, The Bee Gees, Abba,
Motown, 80s power ballads - all from before their time - became as much a
soundtrack to their lives as it had been to mine. And meanwhile, I was
embracing artists like all the above mentioned Britpop, Coldplay, Kaiser
Chiefs, Keane, Amy Winehouse, Adele, The Killers and many more, whilst artists
from my younger years were in many cases still releasing new material which
appealed to all ages. Moreover, anthemic songs like <i>We are the Champions, Hi Ho Silver Lining, Is this the way to Amarillo, Rockin' all over the World, Hey Jude </i>and above all <i>Sweet Caroline</i> have acquired a ubiquity which few would have foreseen at the time of their original release. Known and sung, word perfectly, by people aged 5 to 95, at weddings, football matches and other joyous gatherings.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Musical tastes, which
had in my youth created a very real divide between me and my parents, was now a
powerful bond between me and my kids.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">And so to 2023, and the
fate of BBC Radio 2. Helen Thomas may think that she is refreshing Radio 2 and
reaching out to a younger demographic. Maybe she is, but to base decision-making
on what seems increasingly like a laughably outdated understanding of musical
tastes and sociological behaviours seems to me and to many people of ALL ages
to be a very short-sighted, simplistic and potentially deeply harmful way of
proceeding, especially given the BBCs historic remit as a kind of embodiment of
British values and culture.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Yes, Steve Wright and
Ken Bruce are getting on in years, but their fans stretch back into a far
younger demographic. Wright may be old, he may have the look of a recluse, but
his youthful voice, his mastery of the zoo format radio that he pioneered and
his catholic taste in music provided a perfect soundtrack to the working week
for millions, of all ages. His sidekicks Tim Smith and Janey Lee Grace were
also intuitively real, and provided a wonderful antidote to Wright's persona.
Wright himself was not only a very good interviewer of celebrity guests, but
also had enough self-awareness to send himself up with the whole “DJ Silly boi”
and no ‘g' thing which heralded the end of the working week in such joyful
style. His somewhat predictable humour, his catchphrases and idiosyncracies had
the air of the embarrassing uncle - a bit weird, sometimes a bit cringe worthy,
possibly even a bit creepy, but nevertheless much loved and somehow very
reassuring.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Ken Bruce may be a
portly bald-headed septuagenarian, but he has his finger on the pulse of how
middle England in its broadest sense thinks and feels. Through the difficult
and isolating days of Covid lockdowns, he, like many, was “working from home”
with the perfect blend of awareness of collective suffering yet also of the
need to chivvy us all along. And his musical tastes are absolutely not stuck in
the past: he has embraced and promoted good music from every era, valuing and
cherishing the best of the past alongside all the good stuff which is still
emerging in the fields of pop and rock.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The BBC hasn't yet
admitted it, but it is abundantly clear that Scott Mills has been a disaster in
Steve Wright's former slot. An ageing DJ with no intuitive feel for his
audience's taste, he comes across like a man embarrassingly refusing to admit
he's past it. His show feels like an awkward warm up set in Magaluf done by a
superannuated mobile DJ hoping nobody will notice his paunch and his wrinkles. When
I hear Scott Mills, I always have a mental picture of a man wearing a backwards
baseball cap in a desperate attempt to look </span><i style="font-size: 12pt;">down with the kids</i><span style="font-size: 12pt;">.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0M89grdC4nO4SYW6-TU9vyrsccZgVLLft_CWTwe3JNo3MprzqxLJ90q6CaQ9CyuGufJLw4m9D9vP8f6hq258eA_XVIJNCsBOIUSn9JX_yFTjcq5pmVTantdBlAkiZUWMS9OJSZNhrIjkPDFsIPKBDnpvnUIhwPgidIknCe7ECyG2dJNxWYVQWYdf5/s1600/SW.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0M89grdC4nO4SYW6-TU9vyrsccZgVLLft_CWTwe3JNo3MprzqxLJ90q6CaQ9CyuGufJLw4m9D9vP8f6hq258eA_XVIJNCsBOIUSn9JX_yFTjcq5pmVTantdBlAkiZUWMS9OJSZNhrIjkPDFsIPKBDnpvnUIhwPgidIknCe7ECyG2dJNxWYVQWYdf5/s320/SW.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>Steve Wright and his successor Scott Mills</i></b></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Sadly, Radio 2 is
collectively heading down the same road. Zoe Ball comes across as far too matey
with her guests and co-presenters, leaving the listener feeling left out rather
than included. Her predecessor Chris Evans, despite his millionnaire lifestyle and hell raiser past, felt
more like “one of us”. Sara Cox, too, has started to sound a little desperate,
putting on silly voices in the hope that it will sound cool in an ironic post-modern
way, but unfortunately she just sounds - well, silly.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">But of course</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">these days, I seldom listen to any of them.
Like many others, I have moved to </span><b style="font-size: 12pt;"><i>Greatest Hits Radio</i></b><span style="font-size: 12pt;">, where I
await the triumphant arrival of Ken Bruce in a few weeks' time. Their
advertising department must be rubbing its hands with glee as ratings and hence
revenues soar.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">On Greatest Hits, I
have rediscovered Simon Mayo, himself lost to Radio 2 some years ago, but still
relaxed and effortlessly on trend, in touch with the zeitgeist and the lives of
ordinary people in a way that Scott Mills simply isn't. Mayo comes across as a cool ageing man at ease with, but not obsessed by, his age. Ken Bruce and Steve
Wright share that trait of character, which was in many ways the essence of
Radio 2 in recent decades .</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">So there I am, a
disgruntled older man, moaning about change. I offer two points in mitigation
before I shut up:</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The first is this: the
knowledge that my “disgruntledness” (a good word if it doesn't exist) is shared
by millions, including many much younger than me. My thirtysomething, gay, Labour-voting,
Brexit-hating daughter agrees with everything that I say on this topic. She's millennial
to the core, yet resents Scott Mills and all that he represents with a passion.
And I know many of her generation and even younger who feel the same way.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The second is this:
that I do NOT want to hear just music of the 60s/70s/80s. I love plenty of
music from the past 30 years. Radio 2 in the 21</span><sup>st</sup><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> century had become
a place where “music of the future and music of the past” were played and
promoted in equal measure. My one gripe with Greatest Hits Radio, if it is to
be my new home, is the obsession with the musical past. Perhaps Ken Bruce could
fix this when he joins.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">And do you know what?
My daughter even agrees with me on that last point</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt;">So please, can someone
at the BBC see sense before they alienate and lose several generations all at
once? National, commercial-free radio is our friend, a medium of unique value,
and used wisely is a wonderfully unifying glue to an increasingly fragmented
society. Divisive ageism is not the way forward, indeed it is - irony of
ironies - hopelessly outdated.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Let's leave the last
word about all this </span><b style="font-size: 12pt;"><i>Radio Gaga </i></b><span style="font-size: 12pt;">to Freddie Mercury, who, had he
not been taken from us too soon, would now be an old man of 76. Old peoples'
music? I don't think so...</span></span></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Let's hope you never
leave, old friend<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Like all good things,
on you we depend<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">So stick around, 'cause
we might miss you<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">When we grow tired of
all this visual<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">You had your time, you
had the power<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">You've yet to have your
finest hour<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p>Adrianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09507501095053062156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692995260351181594.post-83074588879600499022023-01-12T21:47:00.009+00:002023-01-20T07:24:48.142+00:00You can't always get what you want<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">When I first started posting my thoughts as a blog, back in 2015, I started using song titles - or occasionally lines from song lyrics - as the title for each post. It happened almost by accident when I was writing my very first post, about the then new and very rare FreeStyle Libre blood glucose monitoring device: the words of a song came into my head, and I thought it would make a good title. That post - entitled <b><i><a href="https://adrianlong3.blogspot.com/2015/03/whats-going-on.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">What's Going On?</span></a></i></b> - is still there, now of course very outdated, but in a very good way.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">These days, it's often the other way round: a title or line comes into my brain as a result of something that's happening in the world, and thoughts start to swirl around in such a way that I end up expressing them in writing and usually publishing them on my little corner of the internet. Read on to find out how this title - <i>You can't always get what you want - </i>became a post.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">My blog has always been about more than just diabetes, but the condition with which I live, and which has brought me so many friends, opportunities and experiences, remains a recurring theme, not least because the world of diabetes care and treatment has moved on so much over those six years. There's always much to talk about.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">This week brought the announcement by NICE of <b><i><a href="https://www.nice.org.uk/guidance/indevelopment/gid-ta10845/consultation/html-content" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">proposed guidelines</span></a></i></b> and a consultation on the future availability of closed loop systems for people living with Type One diabetes in England. It stimulated a frenzy of comment and opinion, ranging from excitement and gratitude to anger and resentment and all stops in between. Once again, I found myself somewhere between amused and dismayed by the speed with which people felt it necessary to broadcast their views to the online world. Not least when the announcement was of proposals, not policy, with an invitation to comment. An invitation to comment: online, privately, and thoughtfully, having read and considered the proposals.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjccRcT_OmmBTGWPL7_ZyekhtG-8XJ6GtjpIjscIo-wSTtkmFoibB6kmbwpWsAqKECyHs6_fcIsrzDcXIh_pIgxNeWXzRDNckHqXb20t43UKA1Wf6nHBiaVnNrmoESDQvXk96g6BlUIIkZ-wNQ4iG1FykWhWu02SBEYrHKqP5T9WE7z-KiPGw4V90pe/s500/closed-loop-tech-500x441.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="441" data-original-width="500" height="282" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjccRcT_OmmBTGWPL7_ZyekhtG-8XJ6GtjpIjscIo-wSTtkmFoibB6kmbwpWsAqKECyHs6_fcIsrzDcXIh_pIgxNeWXzRDNckHqXb20t43UKA1Wf6nHBiaVnNrmoESDQvXk96g6BlUIIkZ-wNQ4iG1FykWhWu02SBEYrHKqP5T9WE7z-KiPGw4V90pe/s320/closed-loop-tech-500x441.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">We live in an age of instant and therefore necessarily less than reflective opinion, driven by the platform of social media where so many strive to be heard. By the time I'd read just a few of the torrent of responses, I had already started to feel that I must be a freakish loner in wanting to give the proposals some thought. Until I remembered that those expressing the most strident and immediate views are almost by definition a minority, and that tens of thousands of others are probably unaware of the announcement or too busy living their lives to be able to join the chorus of opinion. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">It’s the negativity that really gets me down. We've been here before, of course: </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I remember a taxi ride back into Central London in September 2017, after being interviewed live on Sky News on the day that FreeStyle Libre was added to the NHS tariff, and reading through dozens of negative comments about that decision, spiced with suggestions that the likes of me or indeed Partha Kar were paid by Abbott to promote this product. Most comments boiled down to “Yes, but what about...”, overlooking the universal truth that all progress, all change for the better, comes in stages, not overnight. Partha repeatedly used the “tip of the spear” analogy to restate his point that this was a marathon not a sprint, and that progress and evidence would generate further change, price reductions and hence wider benefit.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Then this time last year, we had a similar furore over the news that FreeStyle Libre 3 would not be as readily prescribed as Libre 2. Again, the misplaced sense of entitlement, and the consequent rage, was baffling.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">After all, we're only 7 years on from the arrival of Libre, and progress has indeed been remarkable. Flash or CGM is now, with one or two shameful exceptions, the norm for people living with T1D in the UK. It has taken just five years from a fortunate few paying £100 a month for Libre 1 to everyone with T1D getting at least Libre 2 or other devices like Dexcom or Libre 3 according to need and at no cost at all to the patient.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">So the other day, these wise words, from the Rolling Stones, came into my head:-</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><i>You can't always get what you want</i></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><i>You can't always get what you want</i></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><i>You can't always get what you want</i></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><i>But if you try sometime you'll find</i></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><i>You get what you need</i></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><i><br /></i></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Check out the song <b><i><a href="https://youtu.be/jv9sDn_2XkI" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">here</span></a></i></b> - it was actually the B-side of their iconic 1969 hit <i>Honky Tonk Women</i>, but has achieved far greater fame and acclaim over the subsequent half century.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Why these words? Because we now have the prospect of pump with closed loop connection to CGM - a de facto artificial pancreas - <b>for those who need and want it</b>. Do we all want it? Possibly, but not necessarily. Do we all need it? Arguably, but at what cost relative to other demands on diabetes care and the NHS in general? Another huge step forward in diabetes care and treatment, but one that comes with a cost, and therefore with decisions to be made regarding who gets it and who doesn't. Hence the frenzy of excitement this week, but also a disappointing amount of negativity.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Surely, before we all start with the “What abouts” we should pause to reflect, and to keep a sense of proportion, fairness and context to this news. Loop and CGM for more than a favoured few is wonderful news, to be welcomed, celebrated and shared, not least by those who have lived through years of far more primitive methods of insulin delivery and blood glucose monitoring. But we must, now more than ever, remember that this massive improvement to care has a cost, a cost to us all as taxpayers, and that this cost must compete with other growing demands on NHS funds. Assessments of need and decisions, sometimes hard decisions, will have to be made, both theoretically and then in practice: there will be winners and losers. We must surely place <i>need</i> before <i>want</i>, not the other way round.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Take me: I have an Hba1c well below the proposed threshold of 8. I am doing fine on MDI, not least because I have the luxury of being retired and therefore having the time and headspace to devote to keeping my levels in reasonable range. So whilst I might want management of my diabetes to be easier and more automated, do I need it? Right now, no, I don't, and I'd happily see my £6k of closed loop funding go into the pot to improve diabetes education courses, to increase HCP pay or to speed up cancer diagnosis.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I can think of many others living with diabetes whose need is greater than mine. Busy working people with no time to constantly check levels and correct; pregnant women and nursing mothers with 1001 other stresses and strains on mind and body; children and teenagers with raging hormones and lives to live, fun to be had and worries to be addressed; older people with additional mental or physical disabilities or challenges on top of diabetes. The list goes on. I even happen to think that the need of basic flash monitoring for many living with Type Two is greater than my need for a pump and a loop. If we think hard and selflessly, and with due regard to financial realities, the need of others may well be greater than our own want. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">So before I start sabotaging my own blood sugar levels in order to raise my Hba1c to above 8, so as to qualify for a pump, I shall gladly stand back, rejoice in the progress of recent years, thank those who have driven it, and remember that as so often in life, what we <b><i>need</i></b> is often considerably less than what we <b><i>want</i></b>.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Jagger and Richards wrote some very wise words as well as some of the greatest ever riffs....</div><div><br /></div></div>Adrianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09507501095053062156noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692995260351181594.post-64594187798933814942022-12-19T10:08:00.003+00:002022-12-19T14:15:50.680+00:00Everybody Wants to be a Cat - or maybe not<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4rrXR6n0RTY" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;"><b>Everybody wants to be a Cat </b></span></a></span></i><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">- a Disney favourite from <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Aristocats</i>, loved by successive
generations, and rightly so. A great song, a classic animated sequence, but is
it true? Does <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">everybody</i></b> want to be a cat? Of course not, but it works well as
a title for some thoughts on how those of us with a hidden medical condition portray
it, both in the real world and online.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">It is often said that cats are good -
too good perhaps - at hiding their symptoms. It’s a survival strategy for a
solitary species, as opposed to those who live in groups, herds, packs or other
groupings. To show weakness is to encourage predators, such that the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">cat that walks alone</i> prefers to keep its
troubles, pains and discomforts private - a poorly cat will often be found
hiding somewhere as if hoping nobody will notice. However, those species which
live in groups may make more of a fuss, perhaps even looking for sympathy with
the proverbial hangdog expression. We human beings, of course, have a choice,
and according to our personality type, we may react to illness or disability by
quietly withdrawing from interactions with others, or by making it something
about which we are loud and proud, a dominant or even defining part of our
persona. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">So it is with diabetes, and with the
growth of social media-based communities such as #GBDoc, a more visible divide
has become apparent between those who portray their diabetes as a defining part
of their identity, and in many cases a burden to be borne; and on the other
side those who portray it as a nuisance alongside many other nuisances in life,
but not something which they will allow to dominate their thoughts, words and
deeds.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Social media has brought these contrasting
attitudes into clearer focus. Some accounts of people living with diabetes
flaunt their condition with pride and defiance, detailing their every success
or failure, sometimes railing against the curse of T1D, and maybe raging
against society's ignorance, or health care professionals' insensitive ignorance.
On Twitter, these people are often those who choose a user name featuring a
reference to diabetes and have a profile picture or bio that leaves nobody in
any doubt that T1D is a big deal for them. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Other social media accounts of people
living with diabetes carry little or no clue to their owner's medical
condition. The giveaway is often just whom they follow or friend, or maybe just
a passing reference in their bio. Their feed may well be about anything but
diabetes, or just an occasional reference to it. Their Twitter name is less
likely to reference diabetes.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">To pursue the animal analogy, the
former group are the diabetes pack animals, and are likely to talk frequently
about their diabetes, both in real life and online, whereas the latter group
are the solitary creatures, the cats if you like, who prefer to keep their
condition private and who consequently seldom draw attention to it. Like most
divisions, it’s not binary, and most of us have a nuanced attitude, sometimes
wanting the world to know that we live with this damn thing and sometimes
wanting nobody to know.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">And
above all, there are no rights and wrongs - just differences. </i></b>However,
my sense is that nearly all people living with diabetes of any type tend
towards one type or the other. So which am I? A cat or a dog?<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Well I am very much a <b>cat. </b>No
surprise there, given my lifelong love of cats, so this post is about being a
cat - <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">hiding an already hidden condition</i>.
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><o:p></o:p></i></b></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Today is my <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">diaversary</i></b>. It was at 5pm
on this day in 1997 that I went to see my GP, alarmed by a sudden recurrence of
symptoms after I'd recovered from a week in bed with ‘flu. She had asked me to bring
a urine sample and I can still picture her concerned and somewhat puzzled face as
she told me that it revealed very high sugar levels, and probably diabetes. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I've told the story many times: it actually
took several weeks for me to be diagnosed as Type One; back in 1997 it was still
widely believed that Type One very rarely came on in adults: we now know very
much otherwise. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Twenty Five years. A quarter century.
One third of the average male lifetime. Most significantly for me, more than
half of my adult life. So it's a day for much reflection, and indeed a blog
post. There's much to think over, and whilst in many ways that dark and chilly December
evening when I was told that life-changing news remains very clear in my mind,
in other ways it seems like a very different life in a very different world.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Over those twenty five years, my attitude
to diabetes has varied, and in particular the level of noise that I make about
it, has varied due to circumstances as much as anything, but overall I have
always tended towards saying less rather than more. As mentioned above, in
diabetes as in all else, I <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">want to be a cat. <o:p></o:p></i></b></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Over the first 16 years or so, through
very much the peak of my working career, diabetes was firmly in the background
of my life, my concerns and my interactions with others. My diagnosis came at
the end of a week off work confined to bed with ‘flu, but that was the last day
off for sickness between then (1997) and my retirement 20 years later. (Other
than routine appointments). So living with Type 1 had no impact whatsoever on
my working life, indeed less than four months after diagnosis I was leading a
group of 45 teenaged schoolchildren on a week-long school trip to France, as I
had done for years before and continued to do for years afterwards. I remained
the same busy person that I had been before T1D came to join me on my journey
through life, and I often reacted with wry amusement rather than boiling anger
as I watched others - notably work colleagues - moan about how busy and tired
they were, or how much they were struggling with whatever short-lived ailment
was troubling them. Very occasionally, I would drop the T1D bomb into a
conversation or situation, as for example when a colleague was planning a day
of interviews in which I was involved, and he said to me “It’s going to be a
full-on day, with no time for eating” When I gently suggested that I would have
an issue with that, he sheepishly remembered and re-jigged the schedule a
little.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Outside work and home life, I also
avoided diabetes and anything other than strictly necessary talking about it. I
joined the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">British Diabetic Association</i>
on diagnosis (sounds so archaic now, but that’s what Diabetes UK was still
called back then), and then ignored a series of letter invitations to local
group meetings, not least because the subjects of their meetings were always
about low-carb eating and getting more exercise, a clear sign that this was
predominantly if not exclusively frequented by people living with Type 2.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">However, the world of diabetes care
and management was on the threshold of very significant change at the time of
my diagnosis, and has come a long, long way in those years - as those whose
lives with Type 1 predate mine will readily attest. Whilst by 1997 we had
already reached the era of disposable pens and needles and electronic blood
glucose meters, we were still two decades from the near universal availability
of non-invasive glucose monitoring, and indeed the rapid advance in the
availability and use of lightweight insulin pumps and closed loop technology.
Yet the <i>Rise of the Machines</i> was already under way by the time I joined
the ranks of the pancreatically challenged, and although I am not among those
who are desperate to have the benefits of an insulin pump rather than MDI, I
have from the very start been convinced that the quantum leap has been the
ability to measure blood glucose levels without finger pricking: I was one of
the earliest adopters of FreeStyle Libre back in 2015, and with Libre 2 now the
norm, I am free from the fear of unforeseen hypos which was a genuine worry for
me for the first 20 years or so. I was fortunate enough recently to be given a
two week trial of Libre 3*, and whilst I remain unconvinced of whether I need or
want a full CGM to remind me every minute of every day what my levels are, I
can well see that this latest version is a state of the art which will be
welcome by many and will sooner or later end up as the norm.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Equally striking when comparing 1997
and 2022 is the impact of the revolutionary advances in connectivity brought
about by the internet. The birth of the World Wide Web is rightly quoted as
1992, but it was not until the late 90s that the internet started to reach
ordinary homes on a large scale. We got our first internet connected PC in
early 1998, but at first the internet was really just a giant online library.
Emails were there from the start, but they were really just instant letters. The
notion of real-time “conversations” with friends and family across the world
would have seemed fanciful, and for me, any sense that ICT and the web would be
of any significant connection to my new condition would have seemed very odd.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Yet for me, like many others, it was
online connectivity that brought me out of my diabetes closet and connected me
for the first time with fellow Type Ones. It’s a story that I have shared before,
for example <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><a href="https://adrianlong3.blogspot.com/2017/12/ill-be-there-for-you.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">here</span></a> </i></b>and I have no hesitation in saying that connecting with others
living with Type 1 was a life-changing move, which has brought me connection
with 100s, friendship with dozens and a close and lasting bond with a few.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">And yes, online diabetes connections
and friendships are all about the sharing, and therefore only really of any
value if those involved are prepared to talk about their condition, at least in
some small way. From around 2013 onwards, I did indeed start talking about
diabetes with others, and as a result became aware of the rapid advances in
diabetes care and technology that were at that time starting to proliferate.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">And yet……<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I remain a cat. I remain a man of
relatively few words in any setting, real world or online, and especially in
the context of diabetes. My regular social media feeds only occasionally
feature diabetes content, and my Facebook is a largely diabetes-free space. I
sometimes think I should be more vocal, more of an “awareness raiser” or even a
so-called advocate, but my heart just isn’t in it. Others clearly feel more
strongly about it, and have more to say, whereas for me, the core of my
relationship with this lifelong condition is that it is a nuisance, rather than
a burden, that I will not allow to take over my life. To rant and rave about it
seems to me to be a largely futile exercise, in which I would either be
preaching to the converted or risk becoming a bore.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I am enormously grateful to and
hugely respectful of those who define their persona so much by diabetes. In so
doing, they are being generous and beneficial to others: we would not be nearly
so far down the road to accessible diabetes technology for all according to
their needs and wishes, nor would we have anything near the levels of
camaraderie and peer support that we enjoy, without the efforts of those for
whom diabetes is a big deal.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I certainly have no wish or intention
to shy away from the diabetes community, indeed I interact with others living
with Type 1 every day, and my best friend is a fellow Type 1. Yet outside the
world of the diabetes community, I seldom if ever remind others of what I live
with. Sometimes to my cost.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">So when it comes to sharing my
condition, I am a cat, whilst gladly accepting that not <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">everybody wants to be a cat.</i></span> I conclude this “Silver
Diaversary” piece with a sincere thank you to all the individuals and
organisations whom I have encountered as a result of that life-changing
diagnosis twenty five years ago: healthcare professionals, diabetes charities,
medical tech companies and above all <i>diabuddies</i>. I may be a cat, but as
all cat lovers know, our feline friends do actually crave and appreciate
company and attention. They're sometimes just too stubborn to admit it....</span><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><b>Illustrations? Well it had to be a throwback to the days when "#OfGBDoc" was a thing. This was a collage of cats belonging to GBDdoc folk which I made back in 2017/18. </b></i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><b>I am aware that some of those kitties are no longer with us, so I hope that the memories are warm and not too sad.</b></i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_DSxgK0xtPc3UCr8rOn5o5AgPxJxSGCz4UeaTmeGktgaw-7aOXMCW_F78QPEUudHD8dWV7QhOOgbtJdfIRWGVi8PLWRb3AJsfStgQyAnJ4mAnP-r6IkAqAe5O4aREekLFJ-Qbooi6RbbmWTFsPeONfn9aWZa9P7dPf-5_66NE2U8_Kn5pfxNQSkEM/s5120/GBDoc%20Cats7.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3840" data-original-width="5120" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_DSxgK0xtPc3UCr8rOn5o5AgPxJxSGCz4UeaTmeGktgaw-7aOXMCW_F78QPEUudHD8dWV7QhOOgbtJdfIRWGVi8PLWRb3AJsfStgQyAnJ4mAnP-r6IkAqAe5O4aREekLFJ-Qbooi6RbbmWTFsPeONfn9aWZa9P7dPf-5_66NE2U8_Kn5pfxNQSkEM/w400-h300/GBDoc%20Cats7.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><b><i>* </i></b><b><i>#ad #sponsored: I was given a FreeStyle Libre 3 sensor free of charge for evaluation purposes. The opinions in this post are my own and were not influenced or reviewed by Abbott.</i></b></p>Adrianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09507501095053062156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692995260351181594.post-69157555469702702942022-10-25T14:39:00.002+01:002022-10-25T14:56:49.226+01:00 Let it be: why we don't need a general election right now.<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Politics is a subject supposedly best
avoided in polite conversation, and I tend to avoid it on social media. However
angry we are about people, events and decisions, it serves little useful
purpose to vent about it online, not least as most ordinary people live in
social media echo chambers where we mainly see posts by people with whom we
agree. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">However, although blogging has gone
out of fashion, I still enjoy reading others’ thoughts when expressed on the often
more considered and restrained platform of a blog, and I also enjoy forming the
thoughts that swirl in my head into a coherent whole, so I am committing some
strongly-held views which have come to my mind over this week for this new
post. As always in matters political, there will be some who agree, and some
who don't.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">So here we go - on the day that our
third Prime Minister in two months takes office - October 25<sup>th</sup>,
2022…..<b><i>Why we don’t need an election right now.</i></b><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I am not, and never have been, a
Conservative voter or supporter. I nevertheless prefer to keep my political opinions
and comments for the ears of family and closest friends only, but sometimes
there are exceptions, and right now is one of those times. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Like many like-minded people, I have
despaired over the past five years at some of the individuals and policies that
have been inflicted upon this nation by successive Tory governments which are
hostage to right-wing English nationalist factions and which bear no
resemblance to the traditions of Conservatives at their best.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">It is easy to react to the recent
chaos with angry calls for the peoples' voice to be heard, and to elect a
Labour Government at this point might seem like an attractive solution. However,
it would do the Labour Party no favours were they to gain power thanks to the
weakness of their opponents rather than because of their own strengths. They remain a work in progress after some
years of misguided folly, and a strong opposition which is a believable
alternative is an essential part of a well-functioning government. Labour may
soon be just that, but not right now, not least as they would face exactly the
same economic mess that is facing the present government. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">In the end, a period in the political
wilderness is good for either of the main parties, giving it time for the
inevitable recriminations before eventually coming to their senses. The past
forty years have seen both major parties spend years in opposition because they
have reacted to electoral setbacks by lurching to their own extremes: Labour
has done it twice, in the Michael Foot years and then the Jeremy Corbyn years,
wasting golden opportunities to shape the country for the better in so doing.
Labour’s disastrous spell under Corbyn was a classic case, and is in many ways directly
responsible for inflicting this present government upon us. It was patently
obvious that Corbyn was unelectable against the background that led to the 2017
and 2019 elections, and a more inclusive Labour Party led by one of its “lost
leaders” - (Ed Balls, Yvette Cooper, Alan Johnson, the other Miliband, Andy
Burnham, or even Keir Starmer) could have defeated the Tories in either of
those elections before the car crash of a hard Brexit became the disastrous long-term
consequence of Cameron’s decision in 2016 to try to solve his party's problems
by asking the electorate to vote in a referendum on an irreversible policy.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The Tories have, since 2015, done
serious and in some cases irreparable damage to the country which I love, and
part of me wants to see the Tories out of office until, like all parties
eventually do, they come to their senses and return to the centre ground which
is where the overwhelming majority of Britons stand.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">However, I do <b><i>NOT</i></b> want a General
Election right now.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><b><i><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Firstly</span></i></b><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">, because, like millions of others, I
just want some political and financial calm and stability. I want some peace
and quiet. After the chaos of recent times, with the lazy amoral leadership of
Johnson followed by the astonishingly inept non-leadership of Truss, we now
have as Prime Minister a young British Asian man who has the look and sound of
a serious, capable and hard-working leader. His speech on taking office today
was characteristically measured and serious: realistic yet reassuring.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2Pglr5DoVClgqPomzKKWIJBEuqq5jEsYnekxAzbSW6xsZAQqQvdlriU0vNRIEVDRPh6HcLmkws5m8lsnW7MY30o6FRqyBi1ctAmsGALkil6k7joeFOJftgmtDnHoRhc3qZoOuXQ48ynBbNXx4MPBl8kLrxhXxsI6RGV_kS5j_ib1PpHorhXMCCiZH/s1600/Chancellor-of-the-Exchequer-Rishi-Sunak-2022.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1156" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2Pglr5DoVClgqPomzKKWIJBEuqq5jEsYnekxAzbSW6xsZAQqQvdlriU0vNRIEVDRPh6HcLmkws5m8lsnW7MY30o6FRqyBi1ctAmsGALkil6k7joeFOJftgmtDnHoRhc3qZoOuXQ48ynBbNXx4MPBl8kLrxhXxsI6RGV_kS5j_ib1PpHorhXMCCiZH/w289-h400/Chancellor-of-the-Exchequer-Rishi-Sunak-2022.jpg" width="289" /></a></div><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Whether we admit it or not, we already
owe Mr Sunak a debt of gratitude for instigating the long overdue departure of
Johnson, not to mention for his shrewd management of government finances
through most of the pandemic. I have no idea whether he will make a good PM,
but at the very least he appears to behave like a grown-up leader, not an
opportunistic clown (Johnson) or an incompetent zealot promoted way beyond her
ability by the votes of a few thousand deluded party members (Truss). I really
don’t care that Mr Sunak is a millionaire, or that his wife is, as long as he
can steer the country clear of its present financial perils. Being a
millionaire does not necessarily make you uncaring about those less fortunate
than you are.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><b><i><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Secondly</span></i></b><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">, because to demand an election now
is futile. The Tories have a large majority - a mandate for a party and a set
of policies, not an individual, and their MPs would not in the near future
dream of voting down their leader in a confidence vote. Turkeys don’t vote for
Christmas.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><b><i><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Thirdly</span></i></b><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">, and in many ways most importantly,
because to demand an election represents a fundamental misunderstanding of our
parliamentary democracy. At a General Election, we vote in constituencies for representative
delegates, most of whom belong to a party, and the party which achieves a
majority of seats wins the election. We do not vote for the party’s leader, even
though of course our choice is heavily influenced by the personality and
policies of the leaders, but the Prime Minister is <b><i>not</i></b> a President. He or
she is the person whom the majority party chooses as its leader, by its own
choice of system, be it right or wrong. And the party with a parliamentary
majority can change leader as often as it wishes to, as has been the case more
times than many would care to admit.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Believe it or not, no British Prime
Minister has arrived <i>and</i> left office through
a General Election since Ted Heath (1970 - 74). That’s a remarkable statistic. Of
the subsequent PMs, seven have resigned whilst still in office (Wilson,
Thatcher, Blair, Cameron, May, Johnson, Truss) and seven have taken up office
without an initial public electoral mandate (Callaghan, Major, Brown, May, Johnson,
Truss, Sunak).<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The gradual elevation of the position
of Prime Minister to a quasi-Presidential status is, in my opinion, one of the
most regrettable features of British politics in recent years, and is a process
undoubtedly fanned by mass media and by both opponents and supporters of incumbent
PMs. Of course we cannot and must not deny the primacy of the office and the importance
of a good leader, and in the mass media age it is inevitable that TV debates
have replaced local hustings and soapbox speeches as the main source of our views
on potential leaders.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">However, to assign every government decision
to an individual is just plain wrong, and risks giving the individual more importance
than the office deserves. Johnson played up to this, and people lapped it up in
a manner that I found cringe worthy. Those who love him and those who loathe
him constantly refer to him as “Boris”, thereby creating a personality cult
which plays into the hands of a man who relies for his appeal on a carefully
crafted persona of some kind of lovable buffoon, when in fact he is a lazy, amoral
opportunist with no sense of duty. I have always pointedly referred to him as Johnson,
because he doesn’t even deserve the respect of a title like “Mr”. The new PM is
Mr Sunak, not “Rishi”. Politics is, as he himself has said, a serious and
professional business. Surnames, please.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">So yes, in two years’ time, the
people can, and will pass judgement on this Conservative government, and they
may well decide that after what will by then be 14 years in power, their time
is up. But in the meantime, the opposition would be well advised to get on with
fine-tuning their policies and making themselves look like a
government-in-waiting, and the government should be left to attempt to clear up
the mess left by a pandemic, a war and its own idiotic decisions, under what I
truly hope will be Mr Sunak’s shrewd, assiduous and serious-minded leadership.
Give the man a chance.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">So no election yet, please. Let's
leave things as they stand, give King Charles time to get to know his second
Prime Minister and let Mr Sunak have a chance to prove that he can indeed unite
the country by deeds as well as words. And give the rest of us a break from
politics, politicians and political correspondents.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;">Those who know my blog posts will be
aware that I always give them a title from a song, so I leave this one with a
title from the </span><i style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;">words of wisdom</i><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;"> of the
Beatles, or rather of Paul McCartney’s mother Mary: </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;"><i><a href="https://open.spotify.com/track/2xAEMttFb293s8FmbH8tgX?si=b16947676bbb4325"><b><span style="color: red;">Let it Be</span></b></a></i></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;">.</span> </p>Adrianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09507501095053062156noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692995260351181594.post-91115380523497398622022-06-14T21:29:00.009+01:002022-06-22T12:07:40.046+01:00We Don't Need No Education? I think we do, and we also need exams.<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn5JeyuNvH0TJx_mQDqVq7GserIM6CtNL8kvozHgmxIT76qIEfyqtOewKdFBO3oQT4SFDrqSQGDt34GQDzyhzvu_EowWKIFN--lifMMSQLhmK5RBma7-QzP1tQw5viaZ-gtQ4cUhnSuyOZ6hn4ngPx8-FOucjYg-9SVvKnAhCFyS76OhwLZck-y-C-/s1953/20220614_212407.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1114" data-original-width="1953" height="229" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn5JeyuNvH0TJx_mQDqVq7GserIM6CtNL8kvozHgmxIT76qIEfyqtOewKdFBO3oQT4SFDrqSQGDt34GQDzyhzvu_EowWKIFN--lifMMSQLhmK5RBma7-QzP1tQw5viaZ-gtQ4cUhnSuyOZ6hn4ngPx8-FOucjYg-9SVvKnAhCFyS76OhwLZck-y-C-/w400-h229/20220614_212407.png" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><!--StartFragment-->
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">After
a gap of three years, I have in recent weeks been back doing my post-retirement
job as an invigilator of GCSEs and A-Levels at the school where I taught for my
entire working career.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">It's
nice to be back: a taste of the teaching vibe which I loved so much, but it's a
strange and in many ways deadly boring way to spend a working day - pacing up
and down a hall full of young people, trying to strike a balance between
ensuring that they are actively supervised yet not disturbed. No squeaky shoes,
no phone notifications, only whispered and strictly functional conversations with
fellow invigilators, and nothing to do except watch the clock ticking along.
For the candidates, a two hour exam flies by, whereas for the invigilators time
crawls. However, it's been nice to see this (admittedly less than fun) piece of
normality returning to school life.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">Almost
everyone is familiar with the strange and stressful routines of school exams,
but if you haven't been directly or indirectly involved with them for a few
years, you might well be startled by how much more complex and regulated they
have become than was the case a generation or two ago. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">Exam
security and fairness of access have made the organisation and execution of exams
into an incredibly demanding logistical exercise for all involved, and I
thought it worth drawing attention to what goes on in schools of every type and
size during these five weeks or so – as well as, on a more limited scale, at
other times of the year. I hope that in doing so I can help to foster added respect
and understanding for all involved in the process.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">Let's
start with the <b><i>students</i></b>. Well nearly all of us have been there
and done that. We all have memories of sitting in those rows of desks, 1.5
metres apart, with the sun shining outside and hay fever season peaking such
that everyone is either sneezing, being disturbed by others sneezing, or both.
We remember the invigilators pacing up and down like prison guards – in the
past they were familiar teachers, but these days they are more likely to be outsiders
recruited just for this role. We remember the ticking clock, the aching hand,
the annoying desk that wobbles, held steady by a folded piece of paper, the
distant sound of a playground as exams cut across the school day and its
breaks, the occasional disturbance caused by a delivery van or<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>a teacher outside the room forgetting it's exam
time and shouting to a colleague.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">And
above all, we remember the panic as we leaf through the question paper and see
the topic we were hoping wouldn't come up and did – or the silent “yesss” as
the one we revised only yesterday pops up. And we remember the uniquely focussed
chatter as we were released from the gloomy hall into the sunshine outside, all
comparing reactions and hoping that even the bright kids would agree that
“Number 7 was impossible”. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">It's
all so familiar to everyone over school age. However if you're over about 40
and not involved in a school you'd be amazed at what now has to be monitored
and what is and isn't allowed. A photo id card must be displayed on each desk. All
writing must be black. Pencil cases must be transparent. Mobile phones are
banned from the room, as are watches of any kind. Drink bottles must be transparent
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and have the label removed. Walls must
be free of any written material which might help in any way. Toilet breaks are
discouraged, but if taken must be accompanied by an invigilator as far as
outside the toilet. A prolonged stay in the loo would render the candidate
under suspicion of malpractice. All this in the name of fair play.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">Secondly,
spare a thought for the <b><i>invigilators</i></b>. As already mentioned, these
days they are an army of people, often with an oblique connection to the
school: my invigilator colleagues at present are a delightful crew: retirees
like me from this and other schools; part-time non-teaching staff redeployed
from their usual roles; off-duty school nurses; a semi-retired doctor; the
adult son of a teacher earning a few extra pounds to supplement his student
loan; or just friends of the exam officer who were persuaded to help out. All
of us have had to undergo DBS checks and take online training for the
invigilator role, and are required to follow all the rules listed above, whilst
also presenting to the stressed out students an air of supportive, empathetic
yet suitably strict supervision. Not an easy balance to strike!<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">Let's
not forget the <b><i>teachers</i></b>! These days, they are not allowed
anywhere near their own subject exam until it's finished, yet most are nearly
as nervous as their pupils: “did I get it right when I suggested there would be
a question about topic ‘x'?” “Was that twilight revision session last week
helpful?” “Will the clever but lazy ones have crammed it all in at the last
minute?” “Will the hard working ones who really struggle get the breaks they deserve
with the questions we've practised?” Some confident and conscientious teachers
want to see their pupils after the exam, but others may understandably hide in
the staffroom.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">And
what about the <b><i>markers</i></b>? Only those who have done it know what a
tough and poorly paid gig that is. Again, it's changed beyond recognition in
the past decade or so. Markers are a hidden and highly qualified army of
current and former teachers, stay-at-home parents, retirees, or ambitious
newcomers to teaching seeking added insight into the assessment process. These
days, virtually all exam papers are scanned (hence the compulsory black pen),
digitised and marked using an online platform which helps markers to add up
totals and, in many subjects, ensures that different questions are marked by
different people. Markers' work can be, and is, remotely and anonymously
sampled and standardised by team leaders and senior examiners. The proverbial “rogue
examiner”, a mythical ogre created in peoples' minds to explain away a poor
grade, does not in practice exist any more, even if s/he did ever exist. Marking
requires sustained attention to the task in hand over many days and weeks. And
it does not pay well: nobody is in it for the money alone. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">I
leave the best until last: <b><i>examination officers: </i></b><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>in many ways the most put-upon, under-appreciated
supermen and women in the whole process. Every school or college has them, sometimes
combined with another role, sometimes not.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">Back
in the day, EO was a job often done by a teacher, either a senior figure as
part of a managerial/leadership post or a junior as a deserving incremental
point on the pay scale. These days, it's almost always a non-teaching post, one
for which there is no formal qualification but which requires a list of
qualities and competences only found in a few individuals. S/he must have
strong admin and ICT skills, limitless patience, physical stamina, kindness, tact,
firmness, adaptability, creativity, problem-solving skills, and anything else
I've forgotten. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">The
challenges faced by EOs are many, varied and unpredictable. During exam season,
they are often the first to arrive on site and the last to leave. Having
already ahead of each day arranged rooming, invigilation, seating plans, secure
storage and recording of the arrival of papers, they then have to fetch all
that day's papers (often well into double figures <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>on any given day if a school does both GCSEs
and A-Levels) and check, count and assign them to the correct room. All this
must take place within a secure room, with the papers kept in double-locked filing cabinets
protected by keys held in a separate safe. Papers must be checked off by a
second pair of eyes, who must countersign for all papers, and once out of the safe, they must stay in the hands of the EO or an invigilator at all times until they get to the exam room. Only then can they be opened.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">And
it's not just a matter of sitting a whole cohort in one big hall, as was once
the case. If you haven't recently been involved with school exams, you would
perhaps be startled, reassured or even slightly jealous of the concessions and
arrangements made to ensure a fair chance is given to all. Students with a
variety of reasons for such a concession will be given the chance to sit their
papers separately in a smaller room, including some who are granted 25% extra
time (if they have a formally diagnosed SEN need such as dyslexia), and some
who are allowed to work on a laptop (again with a formally diagnosed need). Any
laptop used must be supplied by the school and have access blocked to anything
other than basic offline word-processing.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">Likewise
students with certain medical or mental health conditions may also be allowed
to take the exams in a smaller group or an individual room, and may be allowed
rest breaks. This applies, for example, to students with Type One Diabetes who
are permitted rest breaks to test their blood sugar and administer correction
injections or pump dosages when required. The current (June 2022) Coronation
Street storyline of a girl with Type One taking and cheating in her A-Levels
failed to recognise this reality in order to make a good story.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">All
such concessions require exam officers to facilitate separate, quiet, secure
rooms in already crowded school campuses, and to find separate invigilators. Packs of exam papers have to be opened under
secure conditions then resealed in separate envelopes. And at any time, with no
notice, exam boards can and do send inspectors to spot check that all such
conditions are being fully met.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">Another complication is where a student has clashing exam papers in the same session. When this happens, one paper must be taken out of the published time slot, and the candidate kept under constant supervision between the papers, to avoid him or her either hearing or divulging the content of a paper sat out of sequence. Again, a significant logistical challenge for the EO.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">And the EO fields all the problems or hitches: if a
student gets upset or disturbed during an exam,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>then the EO will deal with it. If a parent complains about any aspect of
the exam, the EO gets the email or the call. And when results get published in
August, s/he will oversee the logistics of distribution of those, and deal with
the huge and growing burden of requests for re-marks.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">And
nobody thanks them, gives them cards, boxes of chocolates or bottles of wine,
as happens for teachers at the end of term.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">So
yes, exams are back after Covid. Students are stressed, especially the hugely
unfortunate Year 13 cohort of 2022, who are taking A-Levels having never had
the practice of GCSEs. For all their weaknesses, exams do, by and large,
deliver fair results, develop valuable transferrable life-skills and form an
integral part of most advanced education systems. But I hope that this brief
and personal insight has given those whose lives are only fleetingly touched by
exams a sense of the many challenges that they pose, in addition to the burden
on those who sit them.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">“<b><i>We
don't need no education</i></b>” sang Pink Floyd's choir of North London schoolchildren
in their iconic anti-school song, <b><i><a href="https://youtu.be/HrxX9TBj2zY" target="_blank">Another Brick in the Wall (Part Two)</a></i></b> from 1979. Well actually they did need some
education if they didn't recognise a double negative when they saw one. A
glorious song nevertheless which will serve, suitably modified, as a good title
to this post. We do indeed need an education, and exams are a necessary evil. Please,
however, spare a thought for ALL involved in this colossal annual enterprise.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<!--EndFragment-->Adrianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09507501095053062156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692995260351181594.post-77551528984027965432022-05-08T18:19:00.005+01:002022-06-29T07:22:53.571+01:00You'll Never Walk Alone - the forgotten pleasures of a collective experience<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">I
see no value to me or to others of writing for writing's sake, so my blog
posts, like those of anyone else who cares more about quality rather than
quantity, have become fewer in number over the years. On many topics I have penned
my thoughts and see no point in saying the same thing again in a different way, or in saying what
others can say more effectively than I can.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">So
whilst I never think “What shall I write for my next post?”, every so often a
set of thoughts forms so strongly in my head that I feel that I must commit
them to the written word while they are so strongly held in my mind, and having
committed them to writing, it seems silly in the age of online connectivity not
to share them, even if only a few ever read them. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">So
here we go...with a post inspired by a football match but actually more about the
joys of collectivism, and the inestimable harm that the Covid 19 Pandemic threatened
to do to us as a species. If that sounds like a contrived and pretentious leap
of reasoning, I apologise. However I hope that some will identify with what
follows…. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">Yesterday
evening, Saturday 7<sup>th</sup> May 2022, I had the good fortune to be present
at one of the true cathedrals of the beautiful game, Anfield, the home of
Liverpool FC, for a crucial fixture as the English Premier League approaches
its seasonal climax. A generous friend of mine, who has hospitality seats at
Anfield, had two spare places for a pre-match meal in the Centenary Suite
followed by a crunch match against Tottenham Hotspur, and he texted me a couple
of days ahead of the game to ask if I and one of my family fancied joining him.
For my son Nick and me, this was a gift horse not to be looked in the mouth.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">I'm
a lifelong active football fan, with memories stretching back to crumbling windswept
terraces of Burnden Park, the home of my hometown team, Bolton Wanderers, where
as a schoolboy I would pay my 15p admission and cheer on my heroes in white,
then as now plying their trade in the lower tiers of English football. Supporting
Bolton has brought many highs and lows, and in the not-too-distant past there
were real highs, when in the first decade of this century Nick and I never missed a
game as our team established itself as a Premier League force and evolved into
a highly successful outfit, with Sam Allardyce attracting mavericks and misfits
from world football like Jay Jay Okocha, Ivan Campo, Youri Djorkaeff, El-Hadji
Diouf, Fernando Hierro, Bruno N’Gotty and Nicholas Anelka. Such superstars all bought into Big Sam's style and values such that for several years the team punched well above
its weight in the League, and during the early 2000s, we saw most of the world
game’s superstars at the Reebok. Moreover, the big teams were quite often sent
home humiliated and outclassed by a Wanderers team that at its best in
2004-2005 mixed sublime artistry with bruising pragmatism.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">Heady days indeed, but Wanderers' decline into the lower leagues, plus other commitments in my life and that of my
family, have led to a decline in the number of matches that we attend, then the pandemic has meant that I hadn't been to a live match in over three
years. So to be thrust back into the experience with a surprise trip to a top-of-the-table
clash between two of the legendary teams of English football represented a
quite stunning return to a forgotten pleasure.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">The
pre-match buzz is better at Anfield than almost anywhere because the modernised
and expanded stadium still rises like a temple from the midst of the terraced
housing of the city whose name it bears. However wonderful the newly built
stadia such as the Emirates, the Tottenham Hotspur Stadium or even Bolton's
still futuristic Unibol, there is something special about Anfield, approached along
residential streets with street corner pubs crowded with raucous fans. I'd
forgotten how good that pre-match buzz is, as it assaults the senses with sounds
(distant chanting) sights (pilgrim like fans dressed in club shirts or colours)
and smells (burgers, onions and beer)<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">But
nothing prepared me for the emotional impact of the moment we emerged to take
our place high in the Sir Kenny Dalglish Stand. I've been to hundreds of
matches over a period of over fifty years, at many of the great venues of
football: Maine Road, Highbury, Old Trafford, Wembley old and new, even
Marseille’s Velodrome, as well as Burnden Park and the Reebok/Unibol, and many
times to Anfield. But not for a few years, and not since Liverpool’s current
team has reached such excellence under Jürgen Klopp's charismatic leadership. I
was unprepared for the impact of hearing “You'll Never Walk Alone” sung on a
perfect spring evening beneath the lights, and even though I was there as a
neutral, it was impossible not to join in with those truly inspirational words set
to that soaring melody. What must it feel like as a player to hear that choir
of 45000 singing with such gusto?<o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJLvS-xv6vlvBS2fkCgkrPtgxhZQPGA5W8gL3BYfxz7IrpXmUp12Ax90AxMrUUohYEwQrVyClZRo40QyNiE9VnnQpgEUJX3704DvTWCr8V6A1JSGiwfB3aRY5rDfyuOrR-j4qXx7cEeSwihuY6YTnd875fYgpJlRaVO8lb_M04aqjgaQzTh_tESDFJ/s4000/20220507_194253.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJLvS-xv6vlvBS2fkCgkrPtgxhZQPGA5W8gL3BYfxz7IrpXmUp12Ax90AxMrUUohYEwQrVyClZRo40QyNiE9VnnQpgEUJX3704DvTWCr8V6A1JSGiwfB3aRY5rDfyuOrR-j4qXx7cEeSwihuY6YTnd875fYgpJlRaVO8lb_M04aqjgaQzTh_tESDFJ/w400-h300/20220507_194253.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">The
game was a 1-1 draw, not a classic, not a goal fest, but a chance to be
reminded of the stratospheric standards of the players now gracing the EPL. The
likes of Kane, Son, Van Dyke, Salah, Henderson, Alexander-Arnold, Thiago and
all the rest make even the premier league stars whom I watched a decade or so
ago look slow and pedestrian. The modern game, played at bewildering speed on a
pitch that looks and plays like snooker baize, is light years away from that
which I watched on the rutted sandy mud heaps of the seventies. Live TV does a
great job, but comes nowhere near to conveying the grace, pace, speed of
thought and lightness of touch of the modern game. These men ARE worthy of
their eye-watering wages, because people show up in their thousands to watch
them, just as others pay to watch film stars and musicians. Exceptional talent
is box office. And when a team of mercurial talents like this Liverpool side is
led by Klopp, a man of such manifest human qualities, including a sense of
proportion, the result is compelling. I genuinely believe that Klopp is one of the most impressive human beings in the public eye at present, and if I could meet one person from the world of sport I would wish it to be him.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">But
above all, what I took home from last night's game was a renewed belief in the value and power of
a collective experience - the pleasure of being part of a crowd. I'm glad I am triple jabbed and have recently had a bout of Covid,
because I was able to relish the joy of a crowd, free for now of any worry of
what I might catch: the collective elation caused by a goal going in or by the
frustration of a misplaced pass or an unlucky miss; even the shuffling along in
a queue for the bar and the toilets, with unknown strangers breathing down ones
neck, felt somehow like a forgotten pleasure recaptured. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">Lockdown
and isolation suited some, and brought its own benefits - a chance to slow down, even to stop,
listen and reflect, and we must not forget that. But we <i>homo sapiens</i> are social animals, and even those like me who
prefer quiet places and one to one chats rather than noisy parties, can find
joy in the collectivity which affirms a common identity, be it at a concert, a sports
match, or even a religious act of worship. And as is often pointed out, there is in fact very little difference between an act of religious worship and a football match - not least the singing of songs of praise to those whom we worship.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><o:p></o:p></p><p><span style="text-align: justify;"><i><a href="https://open.spotify.com/track/6fSNK6QlZskYmKTvJnNH5P?si=1ad76a7bd9b543ca" target="_blank"><span style="color: #2b00fe;"><b>You'll
Never Walk Alone</b></span></a></i></span><span style="text-align: justify;">? Well yes, I will often walk alone, and I'll enjoy it enormously, but
to walk and to rejoice among a crowd of others is also a true joy.</span> </p>Adrianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09507501095053062156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692995260351181594.post-60977770292915717592022-01-10T11:30:00.008+00:002022-01-11T07:05:14.188+00:00"I want it all....I want it now" - or should patients be patient?<p> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: medium; line-height: 107%;">I have been a little saddened to see some of the frantic reactions in the instant world of social media to the news that the latest version of the Freestyle
Libre monitoring system - Libre 3 - is unlikely be automatically available on NHS
prescription to all living with Type One Diabetes in the UK.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhS1pWWE0FDw4RRTuyVWvSfpdRh7lR4LI1thXha5ZWr8_ZHFdP17xNzgeEwcz9FNjJV9gewSOq9xxlje2oPAvao6kzOySninquVk9tt0APzmxoLTZOWigICnrLd__y5YlSQcVO6_KjNn6nu48AHP2ZxQZ__f7uaRf8x1CwuoSPEOrucqRRbpehKrO0b=s640" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="356" data-original-width="640" height="178" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhS1pWWE0FDw4RRTuyVWvSfpdRh7lR4LI1thXha5ZWr8_ZHFdP17xNzgeEwcz9FNjJV9gewSOq9xxlje2oPAvao6kzOySninquVk9tt0APzmxoLTZOWigICnrLd__y5YlSQcVO6_KjNn6nu48AHP2ZxQZ__f7uaRf8x1CwuoSPEOrucqRRbpehKrO0b=w320-h178" width="320" /></span></a></div><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: medium; line-height: 107%;">It’s perhaps inevitable, given that we have been, quite frankly,
spoilt by the rapid advances in diabetes management over the past five years or
so, thanks in no small part to the team led by the indefatigable <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Partha
Kar</i></b>, whose enthusiasm and openness on social media has driven so much positive
change.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: medium; line-height: 107%;">Those expressing dismay that progress from Libre 2 to Libre 3 is not
automatic should perhaps take a moment to think back just six years to the start of 2016 in
the world of diabetes. It was a very different world: insulin pump therapy was still widely regarded as something
mainly for kids or for those who had "failed" with MDI; looping technology was a somewhat subversive subculture in the
hands of a of a few tech-savvy enthusiasts; very few people had even heard of
the FreeStyle Libre - the overwhelming majority of us were still drawing blood
from our battered and bruised fingers for an occasional snapshot of how our glucose
levels were responding to the insulin we had put in a few hours previously; and
the online diabetes peer-support community was a still very small group of social media
users, not the vast and diverse body that it is today.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: medium; line-height: 107%;">Six years on, things are very different: Access to pumps and
to looping technology has grown significantly and is being trialled on the NHS
with the likely prospect of greatly increased availability in the
not-too-distant future, and the FreeStyle Libre (Flash version) is not far from
being standard issue to all with Type One and soon for some with Type Two.
Alongside this, and to a good extent the reason for all this progress, an
online-based community of patients, enthusiastic healthcare professionals and diabetes
charities continues to bring together and support those living with diabetes in
a way which would have seemed pure fantasy even at the time of my diagnosis at
the dawn of the internet age in 1997.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: medium; line-height: 107%;">Compared to many living with Type One, I am <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">relatively</i> new to the condition. For
those - and there are many - who have lived with Type One for half a century or
more, the difference in how their condition is treated and managed is extraordinary - take a look at
<i><a href="https://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/10.1111/dme.14682?fbclid=IwAR1yV5w8GkQEW056DUw1i4h7_Ycn5wbapB2CSt-D3Js_1XtNcN08Nt67MZw#.YaJQdJLHlYc.facebook"><span style="color: #000dff;"><b>this article</b></span></a></i> by my friend Peter Davies, for example. Recent years, even
recent months and weeks have been interesting and exciting, and despite the
continuing challenges of living with the condition, not least during these past
two years of a global pandemic, we have much to be grateful for, and many
reasons to be optimistic about the future. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: medium; line-height: 107%;">Of course the biggest change was a century ago. Tomorrow, January 11<sup>th</sup> 2022, marks the
centenary of the first use of insulin therapy by the team led by <b><i><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Frederick_Banting"><span style="color: #2b00fe;">Sir Frederick Banting</span></a></i></b> in Canada - a cause for celebration which has already been much talked
and written about, and which is rightly commemorated in the special edition 50p
coin which many of us have bought or received as a gift in recent weeks.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgoXPNVBGeJB2N-8yA9wX_ud3ce7Kmw4D79wfX8ucKCn4HGcE8PC45FxdzSFT3iz8By6_-2Q7tmH4dvYflvGb5RbZsr2QvgSfHCv_70Q9XqVLPPEbyHUB27inplI18ugLkyfsWRY6e9RIwEra956wmhI4IFo_6E4jSZqcwDgidqbxefb4nlXnXBdbvH=s3017" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2263" data-original-width="3017" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgoXPNVBGeJB2N-8yA9wX_ud3ce7Kmw4D79wfX8ucKCn4HGcE8PC45FxdzSFT3iz8By6_-2Q7tmH4dvYflvGb5RbZsr2QvgSfHCv_70Q9XqVLPPEbyHUB27inplI18ugLkyfsWRY6e9RIwEra956wmhI4IFo_6E4jSZqcwDgidqbxefb4nlXnXBdbvH=w400-h300" width="400" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: medium; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: medium; line-height: 107%;">As I never tire of saying, in most parts of the prosperous
Western world of 2022, we are lucky compared to our forebears of only a few
generations ago and indeed the millions living in countries where access to the
insulin and monitoring technology on which we rely is not the same as that
which we take for granted.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: medium;"><span style="line-height: 107%;">I therefore cannot help but feel that the somewhat grasping
reaction to the news of the imminent arrival of Libre 3 to the UK represents
something of a loss of perspective and a lack of gratitude for where we already
are. </span><span>For a start, as Partha rightly and politely reminded the
online community on Friday, we are still in the period of consultation
regarding access to Libre 3. The expectation is that it will NOT be an
automatic entitlement to all living with Type One, and it is this revelation
which has caused all the furore. However, this should not come as a surprise to
those who have really read and thought about the guidelines revealed and warmly
welcomed as recently as November, which stated that people with Type One would
be entitled to Flash </span><b><i>OR</i></b><span> CGM according to individual need.
Libre 1 and 2 are flash, but Libre 3 is a CGM, and that distinction is
important, perhaps inevitably clouded by the use of the same brand name with
the number 3 after it.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: medium; line-height: 107%;">My reaction is to agree with this distinction. At present, I neither
want nor need a real-time CGM: non-invasive monitoring which tells us the
direction of travel of glucose levels was the quantum leap, and Libre 2 was
another big leap from Libre 1 which for me ended the worry of night-time hypos.
That’ll do me for now, and I’d rather leave NHS funding to those who need CGM
more than me, such as children, those with no hypo awareness or the very old. And indeed for access to Flash for those living with Type Two, who could benefit every bit as much as we Type Ones have done.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: medium; line-height: 107%;">I am lucky that I have good hypo awareness, and in general
terms I usually have a pretty good idea of what my BG is, so constant BG information from a CGM is for me an unwanted intrusion, indeed a reminder of a condition in which I am
not actually very interested and which I prefer to keep in the background of my
life: CGM is TMI for me and there is definitely such a thing as too much information about blood sugar levels. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: medium;">So for now, I agree with the distinction
between Flash and CGM, and for many, including me, the former is at present more than
sufficient. Others may feel differently, and it might inevitably lead to talk
of differing interpretations of "complex management needs", and so
take us down the road of "postcode lottery" as to who gets it and who
doesn't, or that those who are more vocal, pushy, well-informed or privileged may be more
likely to qualify.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: medium;">I speak, of course, as someone who uses MDI (we are still very much the majority) and who is - for now - perfectly happy with it, but if the numbers using a pump and closed loops starts to grow significantly as a result of recent changes and trials, the demand for a CGM may start to increase. But that’s one for the future.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: medium; line-height: 107%;">Technology is a wonderful thing, and I am lifelong
technophile. But it has its limits, and there are already many examples in
everyday life where I am not alone in finding that the constant need for an
upgrade sometimes blinds us to the virtues of tried and trusted simpler
technology. Cars, satnavs, smart TVs, smartphones, washing machines, tumble
driers have all arguably become so smart that many of us choose to ignore many
of the features that we have paid for. The “upgrade” culture which is forced upon
us has its downsides, and I for one often prefer to wait and see before jumping
on board with the latest technology craze.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: medium;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://open.spotify.com/track/2huPrhpbAW7MmfEgRu6oDV?si=b0703bb05e73438e"><b><span style="color: #1923d3;">I want it all...I want it now</span></b></a><span style="color: #2b00fe;"> </span></span></i></span><span style="line-height: 107%;">sang Queen in one of their less memorable songs, an anthem to greed that I never particularly warmed to, and the reaction to the availability
of Libre 3 has reminded me of that song and makes it a good title to this post.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: medium;">Perhaps now is a moment when access to diabetes technology
should be driven by <i>need</i> not <i>greed</i>. We have come a long way in a short time,
and sometimes <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">patients</i> need to be <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">patient</i>.</span><o:p style="font-size: 12pt;"></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><b><span style="font-size: x-small;"><u>Appendix</u>: for reference, here are links to the current c</span></b><b><span style="font-size: x-small;">onsultation documents via NICE:</span></b></span></p><p style="background-color: white; margin: 1em 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; text-align: justify;"><i><b><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: x-small;">TYPE 1 Diabetes in Adults: </span></b></i></p><p style="background-color: white; margin: 1em 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; display: inline; font-family: trebuchet; font-size: x-small; outline: none; text-decoration-line: none; transition: color 0.3s ease 0s;"><a href="https://www.nice.org.uk/guidance/indevelopment/gid-ng10265">https://www.nice.org.uk/guidance/indevelopment/gid-ng10265</a></span></p><p style="background-color: white; margin: 1em 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; text-align: justify;"><b><i><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: x-small;">TYPE 2 Diabetes in Adults:</span></i></b></p><p style="background-color: white; margin: 1em 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; display: inline; font-family: trebuchet; font-size: x-small; outline: none; text-decoration-line: none; transition: color 0.3s ease 0s;"><a href="https://www.nice.org.uk/guidance/indevelopment/gid-ng10264">https://www.nice.org.uk/guidance/indevelopment/gid-ng10264</a></span></p><p style="background-color: white; margin: 1em 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; text-align: justify;"><b><i><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: x-small;">TYPE 1 and 2 Diabetes in Children & Young People:</span></i></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: x-small; line-height: 107%;"></span></p><p style="background-color: white; margin: 1em 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; display: inline; font-family: trebuchet; font-size: x-small; outline: none; text-decoration-line: none; transition: color 0.3s ease 0s;"><a href="https://www.nice.org.uk/guidance/indevelopment/gid-ng10266">https://www.nice.org.uk/guidance/indevelopment/gid-ng10266</a></span></p>Adrianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09507501095053062156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692995260351181594.post-84364380117670719172021-12-10T11:12:00.011+00:002021-12-11T10:45:07.218+00:00Always on My Mind: the relentless reality of life with T1D<p><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">It’s coming up to my diaversary: <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">December
19<sup>th</sup> 1997</i></b> was the day on which I went to my GP for a
hurriedly-arranged end-of-day appointment to investigate a urinary infection following a
very bad dose of ‘flu, only to be told that I had very high blood sugar levels,
indicative of diabetes. Within a few weeks, I was inducted into the world of
injections, testing and, well, you know the rest…<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">It’s a story I’ve told more than
once before <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><a href="http://adrianlong3.blogspot.com/2016/12/life-is-rollercoaster-diaversary.html"><span style="color: #2b00fe;"><u>on this blo</u>g</span></a></i></b> and on social media, not least at previous
diaversaries, so a simple recycling of my diagnosis story is neither appropriate nor
necessary here.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">However, diaversaries always
stimulate reflection, and over the months of reduced activity and increased
thinking time brought on by the pandemic, I am increasingly drawn towards the
far-from-original narrative that the worst thing about Type One Diabetes is the
sheer permanence and omnipresence of it. For me, that means towards a quarter
century - over one third of my entire life and over half of my adult life - now
lived with the seldom severe, yet ever-present burden of the condition. Just
because we don’t look unwell, and just because (in most cases) we don’t
constantly go on about it, doesn’t mean that we are fine with it. I still
occasionally come across people who think I have “got better” from my unfortunate illness back in 1997.<o:p></o:p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-7LZKa85JbKAXLbfI8-ZWbq3_IMkm1B1NPKgDkPl0eVZEkFXMtbOK797pdRP4is82nxZ1oR-8cd3WDqQbSZJxSOZHN7RRmBoJzdzJkeP2_V4o65mB3sBSThOJnFm4NdqUGI_DOjPIPvQ/s1080/jdrf-t1dfootprint.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="906" data-original-width="1080" height="335" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-7LZKa85JbKAXLbfI8-ZWbq3_IMkm1B1NPKgDkPl0eVZEkFXMtbOK797pdRP4is82nxZ1oR-8cd3WDqQbSZJxSOZHN7RRmBoJzdzJkeP2_V4o65mB3sBSThOJnFm4NdqUGI_DOjPIPvQ/w400-h335/jdrf-t1dfootprint.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: x-small;">My <i>T1D Footprint</i> from JDRF</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">My thoughts on this aspect have
been brought on in part by a growing sense of disappointment with the latest
portrayal of diabetes in the media. Six months ago a character in the TV soap <span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Coronation
Street</i></span>, 17-year-old <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><u><a href="https://coronationstreet.fandom.com/wiki/Summer_Spellman"><span style="color: #2b00fe;">Summer Spellman</span></a></u></i></b>, played by Harriet Bibby<b><i> </i></b>was diagnosed with Type One in a <span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">story which gained much
attention on diabetes social media</span></span>, and which seemed at the time to
be commendably well-researched by the scriptwriters and producers of the
long-running soap. Much was made of the fact that the writers and actors had spoken with
diabetes charities, medical experts and most importantly people living with
Type One to ensure that the diagnosis story was told in a realistic and
relatable manner. So far, so good, and well done to Harriet for representing the condition so well - the picture below captures what will be a familiar memory for many readers.<o:p></o:p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsxSoSpXUqQQkHsbJwNnVmMyKG6TGnQLq_-WkcTZC96tdaX-Yrw19j8kzBknMOmqOgjxC-n0r1KjubRGpUhvpOY3XpezcbW6xzH_YRDx3rrOlFxhTQqUIf5m3Nx3EBr4VqRrF5WSCYLBk/s768/coronation-street-2-summer-spellman-2-1623443397.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="432" data-original-width="768" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsxSoSpXUqQQkHsbJwNnVmMyKG6TGnQLq_-WkcTZC96tdaX-Yrw19j8kzBknMOmqOgjxC-n0r1KjubRGpUhvpOY3XpezcbW6xzH_YRDx3rrOlFxhTQqUIf5m3Nx3EBr4VqRrF5WSCYLBk/w400-h225/coronation-street-2-summer-spellman-2-1623443397.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><b><i>Summer Spellman in hospital after her diagnosis,<br />June 2021</i></b></span></td></tr></tbody></table>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">As a longstanding Corrie fan, I
was pleased to see that the scriptwriters had chosen to use diabetes as a
storyline. However, whenever diabetes rears its head in this way, I always
sense that the reality of living with T1D, and therefore of portraying it in a
TV drama, is actually not interesting or dramatic enough in the longer term. The result is that
scriptwriters either forget the story altogether, or use it as the basis for
something more exciting, but frankly unlikely. Such is TV drama.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Summer is not the first Corrie
character to develop T1D, and a previous storyline illustrates the above point rather
well: back in 2003, another young woman in the soap, <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><u><a href="https://coronationstreet.fandom.com/wiki/Katy_Harris"><span style="color: #2b00fe;">Katy Harris</span></a></u></i></b>,
was also diagnosed with Type One, and like many TV scriptwriters, the then
Corrie team saw in our lifelong and potentially fatal condition the potential
for good dramatic material, rather than simply demonstrating what thousands of
ordinary people live with. Soon after her diagnosis, Katy embarked on an affair
with her neighbour Martin Platt, a nurse 20 years her senior who was helping
her come to terms with the burden of her condition, but took this help rather too far. As inevitably happens in
soaps (where conception seems remarkably easy) she immediately became pregnant and in the
mess that ensued she ended up killing her own father and then herself. As you
do.<o:p></o:p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqf-_iUREOsbl2I7YPPXSXQqtt_7USk0MT7bFhcG2rEt5Ss5TIrFhuX7iSE4WkAaorP3pCjLwTKIz5-joIRPdOQpDj_Gp0WAjoejlsBUrTTvWQ1ZpajhCqcGPHNMCJ1p6XfUn0OMblcXg/s609/Screen-Shot-2016-09-28-at-16.36.27.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="352" data-original-width="609" height="231" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqf-_iUREOsbl2I7YPPXSXQqtt_7USk0MT7bFhcG2rEt5Ss5TIrFhuX7iSE4WkAaorP3pCjLwTKIz5-joIRPdOQpDj_Gp0WAjoejlsBUrTTvWQ1ZpajhCqcGPHNMCJ1p6XfUn0OMblcXg/w400-h231/Screen-Shot-2016-09-28-at-16.36.27.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><b><i>Corrie's previous T1D character, Katy Harris, <br />with her ill-advised love-interest, nurse Martin Platt</i></b></span></td></tr></tbody></table>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">At the time of writing, I am
increasingly fearful that Summer’s story is heading for melodrama rather than a less dramatic portrayal of the reality of life with Type One which might be more helpful in
raising awareness, but wouldn’t generate viewing figures. Summer’s onset and diagnosis
were accurately portrayed, and credit should go to the scriptwriters and to
the actors involved for keeping it pretty real. However, at the time of writing
(early December 2021), Summer has become the centre of a story about an alleged
inappropriate relationship with her neighbour and English teacher Daniel
Osbourne, with diabetes reduced to a bit part in the story (Mr Osbourne’s
giving her an “energy bar” when her blood sugar was low being used as part of
the evidence against him). An unfortunate echo of the Katy storyline, and certainly a distraction from any awareness-raising about diabetes.<o:p></o:p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi66EJTM4NWd_OQYi1Eq6z038ex6taf3dRR1w6eA1nK4ILgxU78AtBRm2eOA1l-xU7fOwl9tXpM-mr9rK-HX3cS3LBTzBSRw7vIdhGST-fZt5X4mXCI5HYZUY-a6llf9XNKAKylAAu7CkY/s480/06_10_coro_daniel_summer_2nd_ep_02-6c67.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="408" data-original-width="480" height="340" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi66EJTM4NWd_OQYi1Eq6z038ex6taf3dRR1w6eA1nK4ILgxU78AtBRm2eOA1l-xU7fOwl9tXpM-mr9rK-HX3cS3LBTzBSRw7vIdhGST-fZt5X4mXCI5HYZUY-a6llf9XNKAKylAAu7CkY/w400-h340/06_10_coro_daniel_summer_2nd_ep_02-6c67.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><b><span style="font-size: x-small;">Summer with her alleged ill-advised love-interest, <br />teacher Daniel Osbourne</span></b></i></td></tr></tbody></table>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">I shall be interested to see
where this one goes: there have been passing hints that Summer is having some concerns
over apparent (to her) weight gain, which leaves the door open for a <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><u><a href="https://www.diabetes.org.uk/guide-to-diabetes/life-with-diabetes/diabulimia"><span style="color: #2b00fe;">diabulimia</span></a></u></i></b>
storyline, so that may yet be part of the story, and would be a good line to
pursue in many ways, given that diabulimia is a hidden and overlooked
aspect of the condition, very much known to me because of the battles faced by
a good friend of mine who lives with it.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">However, what has again been
overlooked is the opportunity to portray the often dull omnipresence of diabetes in
our lives. I am very much at peace with my diabetes, but if anything ever threatens to drag me down, it is this
relentlessness. Most of us, most of the time are not visibly unwell, nor apparently
burdened. Yet we <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">are</i> burdened, and if
we don’t respond to and deal with that burden every single day, we would very
quickly become unwell and, well, die. Diabetes is, as the song says, <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Always
on My Mind </i></b>(there you go, that’s the title sorted!), and that’s a very
difficult reality to portray to others without becoming a bore. It’s not
dramatic, it’s seldom tragic, but it’s always there. The first and last thing that
I have done every single day since Christmas 1997 is to check my blood sugar
level, and in between times, every action, every event, every plan, is made
with reference to its potential impact upon my BG level. And as I so often
point out, the irony is that it’s the miracle drug to which we owe our survival
- insulin - that presents the day-to-day threat to our wellbeing. That’s a very
odd thing to have to live with. We don’t monitor and react to the condition as such, we
monitor and react to the effects of the drug used to treat the condition. And the
administration and monitoring of that miracle drug is entirely in our own
hands, day in day out. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">If Summer
Spellman’s diabetes in 2021 was being accurately portrayed, she would have at
least one device visibly attached to her body, she would be seen frequently
checking a phone or reader, and either fiddling with a pump or administering an
injection in a potentially undignified manner before every meal. She would also
quite often be mildly unwell, possibly a little confused, and would need to sit
down somewhere and eat jelly babies or similar. To describe all this in writing
makes it sound more intrusive than it actually is, but it is the truth. As the
Diabetes UK campaign says, <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><u><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lHJLXa4QCjM"><span style="color: #2b00fe;">diabetes is relentless</span></a></u></i></b>.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">This post is perhaps untypically
negative for me, and I am not given to self-pity, so I must conclude on a
positive note. I am fortunate, very fortunate: I am fortunate that I live in
2021, not 1921 or any earlier; I am fortunate that I live in a prosperous
western country with a publicly funded healthcare system; I am fortunate that I
did not endure diabetes as a child or adolescent, when it would have impacted
far more upon what I wanted to do; I am fortunate that I am male, and therefore
not burdened with the additional impact of monthly hormonal variations on blood
sugar, nor the body image issues faced more by women than men; I am fortunate
that the relentless march of diabetes technology is reducing the burden,
notably of finger prick testing; and above all I am fortunate that I enjoy the
support and friendship of the many people from the diabetes community whom I
have met and worked with in recent years, both fellow patients and healthcare
professionals.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">So I’m doing fine with it, and to
continue to do so well into old age is my realistic and achievable aim. But
yes, diabetes is <span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Always on My Mind</i></span>, whether it shows or not.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">There's always a good song title for any post, and with this one there are two standout versions to share: either the peerless <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><u><a href="https://open.spotify.com/track/1B5Tp2Ml9nLlmTSJx8xVfI?si=b9252b88db60456a"><span style="color: #2b00fe;">Elvis from 1973</span></a></u></i></b> or the wonderful electro-pop reworking by the <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><u><a href="https://open.spotify.com/track/2xYQTU2bbg6WVAmpY1eae4?si=4e8f26fe4d514336"><span style="color: #2b00fe;">Pet Shop Boys</span></a></u></i></b> which famously prevented <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Fairy Tale of New York</i> from getting the Christmas Number One spot back
in 1987. A great song, with two very different interpretations. Click on those links to enjoy either or both versions on Spotify.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Happy Diaversary to me when it
comes, and Happy Christmas to everyone.<o:p></o:p></p>Adrianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09507501095053062156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692995260351181594.post-5784854688539507742021-11-11T12:52:00.011+00:002021-11-12T16:31:05.968+00:00September ’21 (Oh What a Night!): ArT1st Live<p><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">I’ve
never been particularly prolific on social media or as a blogger. I prefer to
use fewer, more considered words rather than too many words in the real world
and I am no different in the online one. Moreover, it's been an exceptionally
busy few months for me, with various post-retirement involvements and
responsibilities all bringing worthwhile, enjoyable yet time-consuming tasks my
way since the end of summer. And with two members of my family near and far, as
well as a best friend, unwell in recent days, that too has been more of a
priority than shouting into the echo chamber of diabetes Twitter during this <i>Diabetes
Awareness Month.</i><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">I've
looked on as November has brought the usual crop of posts, tweets and images,
all aimed at raising awareness, especially in this centenary year of the discovery
of insulin therapy. I’m a little bit concerned that it’s starting to become a
bit dutiful and ritualistic, but I admire those who persist. There is a growing
sense that it's all been said before, and the “awareness-raising” posts that
crop up on Twitter, Facebook and Instagram during November in the run-up to
World Diabetes Day on the 14th often seem increasingly contrived or recycled. I sometimes worry that awareness raising does nothing more than preach to
the converted. <o:p></o:p><span style="text-align: left;">Many who were previously prominent in the diabetes community have gone quiet, and it sometimes seems that they are the wise ones. I was very sad
recently when I saw a post from one of them apologising for his lack of
advocacy presence, or worse still another saying she had been accused of lack
of advocacy activity - the lady concerned is more than a little busy raising
two lovely pre-school children, amongst other things. Those just quietly getting on with their lives without telling the world all about it are in many ways my dia-heroes.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="text-align: left;">Having said that, I have read, this year as every year, some wonderful observations and stories which serve to remind us all that we are far from alone, and for those newly diagnosed that there is a long and fulfilling life to be lived despite the undoubted challenges of managing the condition. Such posts and stories encourage others, and encourage me to keep writing and sharing, and more importantly to enjoy the work of others.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">I enjoy writing, and so if and when I find something worth saying, I shall say it. There's no point in just writing for my own pleasure, so I
shall continue posting here and hope that some will enjoy it. However, as
befits my long-held and oft-stated position, I have little expertise in
diabetes, only experience of it, and limited enthusiasm for diabetes
technology, so there's not much for me to write about in the field of diabetes.
Heaven forbid that I should be thought of as a “diabetes blogger”.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">So I
am writing and posting this piece for Diabetes Awareness month, and for WDD on
Saturday. It’s a long-overdue reflection on <b><i>ArT1st Live</i></b>, already fading into a
distant memory, yet in many ways the proudest day of my 24 years living with
diabetes, and a day which encapsulated so much about my attitude to the
condition. It’s about diabetes, yet it isn’t. Just like me.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">The<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><b><i>ArT1st</i></b> Project - still very much current and
future as well as past - came to a triumphant climax on Saturday 25<sup>th</sup>
September, with a gathering of around 150 people from across the UK and beyond
at Drapers’ Hall in the City of London for a celebration of the creative and
artistic talents of people living with Type One. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">The project had originally
been the brainchild of <b><i><a href="https://twitter.com/parthaskar"><span style="color: #2b00fe;">Partha Kar</span></a></i></b> back in 2019, and was supposed to be a
one-off real-world event. He invited a group of enthusiastic community members
- both HCPs and people with diabetes – to start planning an event, but it fell
victim to the Covid-19 Pandemic and became an online event, which provided a
much-needed distraction for organisers and contributors alike during the tough
days of the first and severest lockdown in 2020. The <b><i><a href="http://www.art1st.life"><span style="color: #2b00fe;">website</span></a></i></b> remains a
wonderful reminder of what was achieved by so many, and will remain for the
foreseeable future as a reminder of those difficult yet in some ways
life-affirming days.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">However,
as soon as circumstances permitted, the organising team wanted to make the live
event happen, and happen it did: perfectly timed in many ways, despite more
than a few Covid scares, it proved for many of us to be a welcome return to
real-world socialising, to the joys of dressing up, of eating and drinking
together, which are such an essential part of what makes us human. The sense of
excited anticipation that comes with getting dressed up, the “how do I look?
feeling, the butterflies in the stomach, were forgotten yet precious emotions.
And there was so much to enjoy about the evening:</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">The
venue, <b><i><a href="https://thedrapers.co.uk/hire/"><span style="color: #2b00fe;">Drapers’ Hall</span></a></i></b> was simply perfect, and a source of real personal pride to
me, having secured it thanks to an unlikely centuries-old connection between
one of the City’s most prestigious guilds and a small-town school in Lancashire
to which I devoted an entire working career. Everything about it was
pitch-perfect, notably food and drink of the highest quality, discrete and
attentive service by the catering team, and rooms which almost literally took
the breath away of all seeing them for the first time.<o:p></o:p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyVNb0aieafRSTp62bYILDIF8MFZTfeEQFoJx1h90U6LiAB2mvJNa8EonlR6UMwfYuvtoBAfUAfZ5xYrERzLBGhlUCAQh_eKspNuZ_kbTnq-53qmM-rSccDuXbQOpuTG45kFDSyG_yqaY/s2048/JDRF_Art1st_21-69.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1365" data-original-width="2048" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyVNb0aieafRSTp62bYILDIF8MFZTfeEQFoJx1h90U6LiAB2mvJNa8EonlR6UMwfYuvtoBAfUAfZ5xYrERzLBGhlUCAQh_eKspNuZ_kbTnq-53qmM-rSccDuXbQOpuTG45kFDSyG_yqaY/w400-h266/JDRF_Art1st_21-69.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>The Livery Hall, Drapers' Hall</i></b></td></tr></tbody></table>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">The
attendees - people with diabetes, their families and NHS professionals who care
for them - were a delightfully esoteric mix, bringing together some familiar
names and faces from the world of diabetes care and advocacy yet also many more
who had seldom, if ever, met or interacted with others from the diabetes world.
That alone was a triumph, extending the reach of the community in a new way.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">But
above all, the performances and artwork to which we were treated were
phenomenal, and gave us a powerful reminder that Type One Diabetes, that most
random of afflictions, creates a community which is a random collection of
individuals, impossible to categorise by age, gender, lifestyle, personality
type, wealth or anything else. In this case, all they had in common other than
T1D was a remarkable level of creative talent, and a wonderful willingness to
share it.</p><div style="text-align: justify;">And
so we were treated to a wonderful celebration of life despite diabetes, not
life with diabetes. After a brief history lesson from me, explaining how on
earth we had all ended up in this wonderful building, my best friend and fellow
organiser <b><i>Ellie Huckle</i></b> set the tone with a thoughtful take on the link between
the imperfect delights of the arts and the imperfections of life with diabetes,
and then we were able to forget the D-word and enjoy ourselves. First we had
the edgy comedic genius of <b><i>Ed Gamble</i></b>, who captured perfectly the spirit of the
event with some hilarious observational material, yet remained commendably
clear that he was first and foremost a master of ceremonies rather than top of
the bill. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCZE_wfAHfTuyrKiBBG2arpufi9Z4v2CMVy2GGhv7NkAK5fMRvjKrw1NdzZ-H5Be-T93mZO2rHeTc3wqXebrz9-STgQsc1uE2ZflJqx_rrAj37TyPazW-wiiOBi-gQmJDUrzJ_drBEUp8/s2048/JDRF_Art1st_21-129+Ed+Gamble+host.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1365" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCZE_wfAHfTuyrKiBBG2arpufi9Z4v2CMVy2GGhv7NkAK5fMRvjKrw1NdzZ-H5Be-T93mZO2rHeTc3wqXebrz9-STgQsc1uE2ZflJqx_rrAj37TyPazW-wiiOBi-gQmJDUrzJ_drBEUp8/w266-h400/JDRF_Art1st_21-129+Ed+Gamble+host.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>Ed Gamble</i></b></td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Ed was followed by <b><i>Sophie Oliver</i></b>, a student of ‘cello at the Royal
Academy of Music, whose dignified yet joyful interpretation of familiar
favourites from popular and classical music set the tone perfectly. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Next came
<b><i>Anibal Miranda</i></b>, a Spaniard living in London, with passionate interpretations of
the musical theatre numbers that he loves so much.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1UbXJqoRynrvKH3QmHlu-sKO2rYswlpQC1x6tF4VUKWJNYtCLCJA9i7O7sqo0-f2GIMf_KxgvrHIsuj9PhfaEQUPLSChMOEDCt66zsP_QnHISJSdsuww1KhXcflRxTcALEt6pf1dFueo/s2048/JDRF_Art1st_21-149.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1365" data-original-width="2048" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1UbXJqoRynrvKH3QmHlu-sKO2rYswlpQC1x6tF4VUKWJNYtCLCJA9i7O7sqo0-f2GIMf_KxgvrHIsuj9PhfaEQUPLSChMOEDCt66zsP_QnHISJSdsuww1KhXcflRxTcALEt6pf1dFueo/s320/JDRF_Art1st_21-149.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>Anibal Miranda</i></b></td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Then a scratch acappella
ensemble called <b><i>The Darling Buds of May</i></b> put together and led by <b><i>Pete Davies</i></b>,
with <b><i>Nick Cahm</i></b>, and <b><i>Abi Ackerman</i></b>, three stars of the GBDoc firmament, who
blended perfectly with their supporting guest vocalists with a performance of
the highest quality in a musical genre in which there is no hiding place.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYVxE9Q6CBNOVGblIfAuWaov4Hq1qUUx_YKVFFrShlceglb2UpUhm10s8x0e9GgNpMWAjQNO9uTwknMMNDI-RINqCe1BRjqK_O11I2LdCAs5XsvQal9iILXcNzeLbRD98i9HDBj6HCZrk/s2048/JDRF_Art1st_21-156.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1365" data-original-width="2048" height="264" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYVxE9Q6CBNOVGblIfAuWaov4Hq1qUUx_YKVFFrShlceglb2UpUhm10s8x0e9GgNpMWAjQNO9uTwknMMNDI-RINqCe1BRjqK_O11I2LdCAs5XsvQal9iILXcNzeLbRD98i9HDBj6HCZrk/w400-h264/JDRF_Art1st_21-156.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>The Darling Buds of May</i></b></td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"></p><div style="text-align: justify;">After
the interval came Abi Ackerman as a vocal soloist, her powerful voice and
confident stage presence filling the Hall as only she could, including a self-penned
song based around the thoughts of others living with T1D. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfINDG4ve89ZeN9vZbAM4p4d5NrvXyqUoZAa-QtkSVRVOzrd3_DBvoNpS868cHj8C0Iuu85BhgRvdGfgM4_egT1FKb87kzEkfViGgYO2M41PnlHgTPVI_brxuXuB5MgZqbwNGUbPrGZYM/s2048/JDRF_Art1st_21-163.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1365" data-original-width="2048" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfINDG4ve89ZeN9vZbAM4p4d5NrvXyqUoZAa-QtkSVRVOzrd3_DBvoNpS868cHj8C0Iuu85BhgRvdGfgM4_egT1FKb87kzEkfViGgYO2M41PnlHgTPVI_brxuXuB5MgZqbwNGUbPrGZYM/w400-h266/JDRF_Art1st_21-163.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>Abigail Ackerman</i></b></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">She was followed by
the wonderful <b><i>Duke Al Durham</i></b>, a Welsh rap poet who voices feelings familiar to all
of us in his intensely personal writings. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf0I54ZZ2HIi9KUGHjegUg1aV8FS8RjOByAQXffiktdyDXhGT1alKpbKociIvgDu2ZkNBXdampRhF4kdj8Aok6HKqaf9wRJAfWcKcgu330Xu9Qxvr7Ide4w69HOzKBlPLEgkAG1S0hFRU/s2048/JDRF_Art1st_21-171.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1365" data-original-width="2048" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf0I54ZZ2HIi9KUGHjegUg1aV8FS8RjOByAQXffiktdyDXhGT1alKpbKociIvgDu2ZkNBXdampRhF4kdj8Aok6HKqaf9wRJAfWcKcgu330Xu9Qxvr7Ide4w69HOzKBlPLEgkAG1S0hFRU/w400-h266/JDRF_Art1st_21-171.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>Duke Al Durham</i></b></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">Next came <b><i>Siobhan Argyle</i></b>, a T1D Glaswegian Victoria Wood, whose catchy, witty and engaging ditties of everyday life
during the pandemic were delivered with a confidence which belied the fact that
this was her first public performance.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijRo0Q8zSKbSMXZY5MMgjHcWH0v8ywmQvqUkVjeiQSa3bYSwdwcXZBn5ShFSIiOAZaezoY1-mZaf7ifDQlFvp5IcrHym20mRScBSI0PLBGsEkrnbiwu1cjDJ1nI15oKwknBNr7JLm7HOw/s2048/JDRF_Art1st_21-177.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1365" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijRo0Q8zSKbSMXZY5MMgjHcWH0v8ywmQvqUkVjeiQSa3bYSwdwcXZBn5ShFSIiOAZaezoY1-mZaf7ifDQlFvp5IcrHym20mRScBSI0PLBGsEkrnbiwu1cjDJ1nI15oKwknBNr7JLm7HOw/w266-h400/JDRF_Art1st_21-177.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>Siobhan Argyle</i></b></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">And
finally there was <b><i>Sheku Kanneh-Mason</i></b>: what can we say? Already a household name
thanks to his appearances on BGT, Harry and Megan’s wedding, at the Proms and
much more besides, he brought his cello to life in a manner which was, almost
literally spellbinding. The fact that, before and after his performance, this
delightfully self-effacing young celebrity just sat at a table with other
guests, and that he duetted with Sophie Oliver with not a trace of
self-importance speaks volumes about the man. Truly a superstar.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh6irXZj1T8n63GLuBiASi2-ntXRPOzsvXU3op65G-DJLWIBRb8n8sa9dvR4ga7XbagCfgZqHZ7d8nmV1vyehFerrizLRoCkx9-8pMMKJH4HrzNViiGk7T0T_wtaIM74WRk3ywG_HV0aA/s2048/JDRF_Art1st_21-181+Sophie+Oliver+and+Sheku+Kanneh-Mason+performing.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1365" data-original-width="2048" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh6irXZj1T8n63GLuBiASi2-ntXRPOzsvXU3op65G-DJLWIBRb8n8sa9dvR4ga7XbagCfgZqHZ7d8nmV1vyehFerrizLRoCkx9-8pMMKJH4HrzNViiGk7T0T_wtaIM74WRk3ywG_HV0aA/w400-h266/JDRF_Art1st_21-181+Sophie+Oliver+and+Sheku+Kanneh-Mason+performing.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>Sophie Oliver and Sheku Kanneh-Mason</i></b></td></tr></tbody></table>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">So
much else was good about the evening, most notably the chatter in small groups
that is always one of the best things about any real-world get-together, but
almost forgotten is the fact that the evening raised a much-needed £6000 for <b><i>JDRFUK</i></b>, whilst
being pitched at a cost to attendees that made it accessible to all, thanks to
the generosity of commercial sponsors Abbott, Novo Nordisk and Dexcom. An
auction of artworks created by people with Type One raised almost £2000 thanks
in no small part to Partha Kar’s persuasive mastery of a skill new to him.<o:p></o:p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8uuSrZsUEGrubI_8F2QswlUpHqmdkrhTpbL_EZQC2If3ognIQDG5r-vY5jHEVULsMMmGpBpLHidfvAP2F7anW-UhNbyks0rNCjrn6bXMgKevHXIl5ANDrsX5A4Ddc_wO_xT3FgoP1ANw/s2048/JDRF_Art1st_21-107.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1365" data-original-width="2048" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8uuSrZsUEGrubI_8F2QswlUpHqmdkrhTpbL_EZQC2If3ognIQDG5r-vY5jHEVULsMMmGpBpLHidfvAP2F7anW-UhNbyks0rNCjrn6bXMgKevHXIl5ANDrsX5A4Ddc_wO_xT3FgoP1ANw/w400-h266/JDRF_Art1st_21-107.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>Professor Partha Kar, OBE</i></b></td></tr></tbody></table>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">But
perhaps the best thing about Art1st as a project and ArT1st Live in particular
is that Diabetes has been present, yet totally absent. Does that make sense? Of
course it does! That, surely, is a realistic aim for all of us compelled to
live with this fickle condition, and I have been fortunate enough to be able to
live that out that aspiration over these past 24 years. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">Art1st Live was a gathering dominated
by people who live with the condition, all of whom will have spent that evening
discretely aware as always that their condition needed their attention, that
the unusual circumstances of the evening, the unfamiliar food and drink, the
late night, the excitement would all have to be borne in mind if they were to make it to the end with enjoyment and dignity unscathed. And yet all they
did was enjoy themselves. Diabetes was there, but was largely unseen except for a lot of technology proudly on display because of sleeveless dresses. It was an evening of fun and friendship, about the people, not the diabetes, the ability not the disability.<o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi34_GobRJFOC_Q6YeXFx1BKJTMrg-nuppmjRKoABL0C81N0cbh_Bql30gUO6p5cWpp27Zs_naAjzdf2jb_VYm0q1Ua1wH2-HoCcoqjXlCimAY4RdwSJK6E2IoHYtemln08HprYX-e0tSg/s2048/JDRF_Art1st_21-198.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1365" data-original-width="2048" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi34_GobRJFOC_Q6YeXFx1BKJTMrg-nuppmjRKoABL0C81N0cbh_Bql30gUO6p5cWpp27Zs_naAjzdf2jb_VYm0q1Ua1wH2-HoCcoqjXlCimAY4RdwSJK6E2IoHYtemln08HprYX-e0tSg/w400-h266/JDRF_Art1st_21-198.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">As
with all my posts, I like to find it a title from a song, and this one came to me as
I sat alone in my hotel room after the event, unable to sleep yet enjoying the
memories already. An exuberant celebration of a wonderful night out? What better
than Franki Valli and the Four Seasons’ 1976 classic? Let’s just rename it with
a revised full title: <b><i><a href="https://youtu.be/mTUhnIY3oRM"><span style="color: red;">September ’21 (Oh What a Night!)</span></a></i></b>. What a night indeed,
and one which, by popular demand, will surely be repeated before too long. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">In conclusion, I must salute my fellow organisers: <b style="font-style: italic;">Agnieska Graja, Pete Davies, Partha Kar, Ros Gray, Lydia Parkhurst, Lis Warren, Sarah Ali Racanière, Jazz Sethi, Ellie Huckle, Kamil Armacki, Jess Broad </b>and<b style="font-style: italic;"> Danni Hitchins</b>. As good a team as any I have ever had the pleasure to work with, and one linked by one thing: a life with, or caring for others with, Type One Diabetes. Patients, health professionals, a charity and three commercial companies working together. Take a bow:</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOyTKH5alOHZhx_oA8MyzWXqJeNho7DYdh3MH1TQNqDUEU84_z-X2Gp9yYg6WHCvS6Jq3WREMEppEYodpPjboZ439tX31kGfqMzV1aaJLVG4pMXn2e3K_MVJk9oswjQ6sxbaOfjPnRvZc/s2048/JDRF_Art1st_21-202+Committee+vote+of+thanks.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1365" data-original-width="2048" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOyTKH5alOHZhx_oA8MyzWXqJeNho7DYdh3MH1TQNqDUEU84_z-X2Gp9yYg6WHCvS6Jq3WREMEppEYodpPjboZ439tX31kGfqMzV1aaJLVG4pMXn2e3K_MVJk9oswjQ6sxbaOfjPnRvZc/w400-h266/JDRF_Art1st_21-202+Committee+vote+of+thanks.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>Members of the organising team</i></b></td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"></p><p class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: white; mso-highlight: white;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: xx-small;">ArT1st Live was sponsored by headline sponsors Abbott and Novo Nordisk, and supporting sponsor Dexcom, in order to allow all proceeds to go to JDRF UK.</span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: white; mso-highlight: white;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: xx-small;">All organisational work was carried out by community volunteers, supported by JDRF staff.</span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: white; mso-highlight: white;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: xx-small;">Photo credit - Max Turner Weddings</span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: x-small;">Twitter:
@maxturnerphoto</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: xx-small;"><span style="background-color: white;">Instagram:
@maxturnerweddings</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: x-small;">Website: </span><u style="background-color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: #1155cc;"><a href="http://www.maxturnerweddings.co.uk/"><span style="color: #1155cc;">www.maxturnerweddings.co.uk</span></a></span></u></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><br /><p></p>Adrianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09507501095053062156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692995260351181594.post-50915131588897416802021-08-18T11:44:00.002+01:002021-08-18T17:11:16.494+01:00Testing, testing: Everything's Gonna be Alright<p style="text-align: justify;">A quick and time-sensitive post, which I hope will serve to inform, reassure and possibly even persuade.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">It's all about <i>testing for Covid-19</i>, and specifically about the oft-maligned lateral flow tests which have become so familiar to many of us. I felt moved to write up and share some thoughts here and on Facebook because I have today (18-08-21) done my twice-weekly lateral flow test with one of the new-style kits for the first time. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">I had heard that there was a new version coming soon, but hadn't realised they were being issued until I opened a new pack, received yesterday.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2zw3LsK_nwkjFUIDLdbc2w9isQcJStKZOOy7sZyXa7fCguzj3weIJy8r-CFJA5jf4Ry2J0XlKB_ELImEmfX6c1byNIo3_RVxuS12ITPF0LP_P2vcwTciO6R-OVHFVoo24ej8b_hyphenhyphenyWrA/s2048/20210818_090630.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2zw3LsK_nwkjFUIDLdbc2w9isQcJStKZOOy7sZyXa7fCguzj3weIJy8r-CFJA5jf4Ry2J0XlKB_ELImEmfX6c1byNIo3_RVxuS12ITPF0LP_P2vcwTciO6R-OVHFVoo24ej8b_hyphenhyphenyWrA/s320/20210818_090630.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">The new version is significantly different to the ones which have become so familiar, and a significant improvement from what I can see: </p><p></p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li style="text-align: justify;">no need to swab in the mouth, which for me has always been the most uncomfortable bit. Just once in each nostril, twisting x5 each side.</li></ul><ul style="text-align: left;"><li style="text-align: justify;">the extraction tube is pre-filled with the fluid, so no need to "decant". It has a peelable top, making it rather reminiscent of the insulin pen needles, so familiar to diabetes peeps.</li></ul><ul style="text-align: left;"><li style="text-align: justify;">the swab is a bit shorter, more robust-feeling and was to me less irritating in the nose.</li></ul><ul style="text-align: left;"><li style="text-align: justify;">the test cassette looks different, but has the same functionality (although on mine today, I couldn't get my phone's QR reader to recognise the code, so had to enter it manually).</li></ul><ul style="text-align: left;"><li style="text-align: justify;">the extraction tube holder is a small, reusable plastic plinth, not the rather large and ungainly cardboard box.</li></ul><ul style="text-align: left;"><li style="text-align: justify;">4 drops not 2 on the cassette, then ready in 15 minutes, not 30.</li></ul><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIN7WQzOROHY_p4VpuM8DpWexM9yYyKW226dFLHMEKmjGa34Qr-B-0zlrYSGupFWiADbIcIQTME9ATWSOqokdCXj7_LAXJxLgudzTCHd3hz7PjHddZHl7wYCNtRbYtT0KHALUptPRUN_c/s2048/20210818_094235.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIN7WQzOROHY_p4VpuM8DpWexM9yYyKW226dFLHMEKmjGa34Qr-B-0zlrYSGupFWiADbIcIQTME9ATWSOqokdCXj7_LAXJxLgudzTCHd3hz7PjHddZHl7wYCNtRbYtT0KHALUptPRUN_c/s320/20210818_094235.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">So this morning's test felt like a re-learning experience, but once we get used to it, these will be very easy to do, and can become as much a part of daily routine as cleaning teeth, and just as easy.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">I'm not sure how widely available these new-style tests are - I always get mine by doing an online order via the NHS app, which is always a quick and flawless process, with next-day delivery, but if you haven't used a new style test yet, I hope this post gives you cause for some small optimism (I am far too easily excited by novelties).</p><p style="text-align: justify;">And finally a bit of shameless pontificating: if you haven't been a regular LF test user, I am a firm believer and highly recommend it. They may not be 100% reliable, but are surely a whole lot better than not testing, and I find it reassuring to be told twice a week that I am unlikely to be infected as we all get out and mix more.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">We keep being told that we are at or near a pivotal point in this pandemic, but I have to say that to me it really feels like it right now: The opening up and deregulation of a month ago has <b><i>not</i></b> led to the apocalyptic infection rates that so many keyboard warrior experts were all too quick to predict, and although the daily rate remains high and hospitalisation and death rates are still alarming, we appear at the moment to be getting tantalisingly close to striking the balance between hiding from and living with the virus. I am not convinced that New Zealand's much-vaunted "Zero-Covid" approach is sustainable in the longer term, and their decision yesterday to lock down the whole country for one confirmed case cannot go on forever if they want to remain part of the world's trading and tourism community. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">I am, and always have been, shamelessly rose-tinted in my view of life, so anything I say about the pandemic or anything else has to be seen through that filter, but I am keen to get on with my life. I shall remain cautious in my approach to what I do and where I go, but as I am not really a fan of crowded noisy places, there is not much that I want to do that is particularly risky. I am desperate to get along to the Unibol Stadium to watch the Mighty Wanderers again, and I have plans for visits to London for exciting events in the coming few weeks, which include rail travel and hotel stays, but I won't be found in a crowded nightclub or a busy bar. I shall continue to wear a face covering for the foreseeable future on trains and in shops, for my own and others' reassurance, but I refuse to live in fear, and shall not waste energy getting annoyed about those who choose not to wear a mask.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">So - getting back to the purpose of this post - I hope that regular and easy testing will prove to be a small price to pay for the freedom to begin to live a little again.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">And a song title for this post? How about a forgotten 90's classic <b><i><a href="https://youtu.be/rzTT5M8zBu4" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">Everything's Gonna Be Alright</span></a> </i></b>by Sweetbox, still one of the cleverest samplings of classical music in my opinion, and a great message for a vision of a post-pandemic life.</p><div><br /></div>Adrianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09507501095053062156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692995260351181594.post-52608343227350338562021-07-09T12:38:00.008+01:002021-07-25T11:48:07.832+01:00Sweet Caroline: How a minor hit from fifty years ago became a ubiquitous football anthem<p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Truly, we are, living in strange times.
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Strange days indeed - most peculiar, mama</i>
(kudos to any reader who can identify that song lyric without googling it)<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">With numbers testing positive for
Covid-19 here in the UK surging, the government is nevertheless relaxing the
restrictions with which we have been living for fifteen months. Cue joy and relief, but also much social
media driven anger and condemnation, barrack-room expertise and prophecies of
doom and gloom....Let’s wait and see. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Yet as the UK and its government once
again risks being cast in the role of international pariah, the country is at
the same time riding a wave of excitement and national pride whipped up by the
performance of England's football team, guided and led by the admirably
restrained, palpably decent, thoughtful and eloquent Gareth Southgate. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">In 2018, the unexpected success of
his young squad in reaching the Semi-Finals of the World Cup in Russia briefly
diverted attention, lifted the mood and unified the nation at the height of the
agonisingly long process of leaving the EU. Oh to be back in such simple,
carefree days….<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Three years later, an even younger
squad has gone one step further in the delayed Euro 2020 Tournament and at the
time of writing, the nation (well certainly its media) is in a state of heady
excitement and euphoria at the tantalising prospect of the squad bringing to an
end to the fifty-five year wait for a major tournament win in our national sport.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Southgate's squad are more than just
a group of footballers more gifted than their predecessors of several
generations past. They are a thoroughly admirable group of young men, schooled by
their clubs and in no small part by their national coach in the appropriate
behaviours, attitudes and responsibilities that come with their status as
richly-remunerated national heroes. Gone, it seems, are the days of laddish
“boys will be boys” behaviour, of responding to media questions with
contemptuous clichés or even open hostility, and of hiding from the bigger
issues in society.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">The 2021 squad is a rainbow coalition
in some ways reminiscent of France's golden generation which won the World Cup
in 1998 and the Euros in 2000. It is a team of thoroughly modern English footballers,
many with recent family origins from outside the country, yet every one of them
proudly flaunts their patriotism and pride in wearing that shirt with its iconic
three lions. The likes of Marcus Rashford, Tyrone Mings and Raheem Sterling
have been unafraid to speak out against racial and social injustice, whilst
Harry Kane, in some ways every inch the cockney diamond geezer of yesteryear,
wears his LGBT+ armband with manifest comfort; men like him in the
not-too-distant past would probably have exhibited the tribal homophobia and intolerance
which was once endemic among the white working classes.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Rashford in particular has become a
national treasure thanks to his off-the-field advocacy for children like he
once was, and that he did so last year with steadfast politeness and respect
for those in power was a remarkable achievement. He may be an angry young man
from the wrong side of the tracks in Wythenshawe, but his anger at social
injustice is nuanced and constructively channelled. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Other players, like Mason Mount,
Declan Rice and Calvin Philips not only look like schoolboys living out their
dream, but behave with the gratitude and humility that in the past was often
lacking in those paid a fortune to do what most of us just have to do for fun. Win
or lose against those stylish and talented Italians on Sunday night, these
young men have done themselves and their manager proud, and I for one will be
eternally grateful for the joy that they have brought us in this toughest of
years.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">And then there's the music...<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Heady days need a soundtrack, as we
have been so effectively reminded by all the nostalgia for the summer of ’96,
but unlike in 1996, the 2021 soundtrack is strangely retrospective. In 1996, Britpop
was at its height, producing some of the best new material that had been written
in a generation, launching stellar careers for the likes of the Spice Girls and
solo Robbie Williams, whilst David Baddiel, Frank Skinner and the under-rated
Lightning Seeds created their singalong masterpiece, <i><a href="https://youtu.be/RJqimlFcJsM" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;"><b>Three Lions</b></span></a></i>. That song is everywhere right now, almost always
murdered by a tuneless drunken chorus, but it is in my view truly a work of
genius. It's wonderfully English, not triumphalist as many think, but rather a
self-deprecating tale of repeated failures and near-misses, laced with the pride
which we as a nation seem to take in plucky losers and the timid but very real
longing for redemption.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Of course, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Three Lions</i> has been at the forefront of our giddy ride to the
Final of Euro 2020, but it is being run close by Neil Diamond's <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Sweet Caroline</i>, which we have heard
belted out by players and fans after every win, gleefully joining in with the “dah-dah-dah”.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjzFCzEL1v30I6PyBAb_G5YxNjBbMFNsROrOPeBPa48XPxJoCeN2WEnVtItX_vW6Lfu9SJMKhpZDOQUsHyWllD_KKMLTxvCXdMt19QJ0tVnRvMc52Kvtey-md_3q60AO9CM4IS5G8Bui4/s960/NINTCHDBPICT000664431989.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="960" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjzFCzEL1v30I6PyBAb_G5YxNjBbMFNsROrOPeBPa48XPxJoCeN2WEnVtItX_vW6Lfu9SJMKhpZDOQUsHyWllD_KKMLTxvCXdMt19QJ0tVnRvMc52Kvtey-md_3q60AO9CM4IS5G8Bui4/w400-h266/NINTCHDBPICT000664431989.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">This has set me thinking, as often
happens with my musically addled brain: how is it that certain songs achieve
iconic ubiquity years after what was initially a thoroughly underwhelming chart
performance?<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://youtu.be/ZLPiYZrwAzU" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;"><b>Sweet Caroline</b></span></a></span></i><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">
is a perfect example.<br /><br /> Neil Diamond was for some years a respected but unheralded
songwriter, until he broke through in the UK with <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Cracklin’ Rosie</i> in late 1970. He had written <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I'm a Believer</i> for the Monkees and other successful songs, but his
name was little known on this side of the Atlantic, and when he finally
achieved modest success as a singer, he was to me and my teenage contemporaries
the sort of singer that your granny liked, a crooner no less. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Sweet Caroline</i> had been written and
released in 1969 in tribute to JFK's daughter Caroline Kennedy, and made no
mark whatsoever on the UK charts. Two years later, it was released as a
follow-up to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Cracklin’ Rosie</i>, and
reached No 8 in our charts. For the next thirty years or so, it was largely
forgotten, but then early in the 2000s it started popping up at the sort of
disco that goes with every modern wedding reception - the sort where dad dances,
granny kicks off her heels to reveal her true undignified self and ten-year-old
boys do a knee slide across the floor. A similar thing happened to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><a href="https://youtu.be/OxahtnSAzgU" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;"><b>Can’t Take my Eyes Off You</b></span></a></i>, another
minor hit from the late 60s by an American crooner dressed in a pullover - Andy
Williams.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Next, DJs responsible for after-match
playlists caught on to it, and in no time everyone knew it, such that when your
team pulled off an unlikely escape from relegation and the fans partied like
they had won the League, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Sweet Caroline, dah-dah-dah
</i>became a song of triumph and joy. Then as Wembley filled up this summer with
fans for the first time in over a year, England started winning, and the rest
is history. Neil Diamond’s accountants must be laughing all the way to the
bank.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Many songs have had a similar
trajectory; here’s a few more that were either unnoticed at the time of
release, or in some cases derided:<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Tony Christie’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><a href="https://youtu.be/yqLLDZvbG-U" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;"><b>Is this the Way to Amarillo</b></span></a>, </i>written by the wonderful Neil Sedaka
and containing some of the cheesiest rhymes ever attempted (<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Dawning-Morning, Amarillo-Willow-Pillow,
Marie-Me, Ringing-Singing, Maria-See her etc </i>) made it all the way to No 18
in 1971 (there’s something about that year!), then remained forgotten until Bolton’s comic genius Peter
Kay imbued it with post-modern irony for 2005’s Comic Relief, such that it
became a mass singalong song. I maintain that one of the happiest moments of my
entire life was when I was one of 27 000 fans at the Reebok Stadium in <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>May 2005, celebrating as Sam Allardyce’s Bolton
Wanderers team of misfits and has-beens secured European football to the tune
of Christie’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Shala-la-la-la-la-la-la-la –
Diouf-Diouf.<o:p></o:p></i></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span>The Proclaimers’ <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><a href="https://youtu.be/tbNlMtqrYS0" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;"><b>500 Miles</b></span></a></i> made it to No 11 in 1988, then remained forgotten until
revived years later, again by a</span> combination of mobile DJs and football fans; likewise, Jeff
Beck’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><a href="https://youtu.be/rb-bKKRl_hw" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;"><b>Hi Ho Silver Lining</b></span></a></i> (No 14 in
1967, No17 in 1972) and even Johnny Cash’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><a href="https://youtu.be/mIBTg7q9oNc" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;"><b>Ring of Fire</b></span></a>, </i>which has never even made the charts, yet achieved anthemic status
after Liverpool’s 2005 Champions’ League win and the England Cricket Team’s
Ashes win the same year.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Even Queen’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><a href="https://youtu.be/HgzGwKwLmgM" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;"><b>Don’t Stop Me Now</b></span></a> </i>was a relatively modest UK No 9 on its first
release in 1979 at a time when the now legendary band had passed their first
wave of success and were seen by many music fans to be an example of outmoded,
overblown and over-produced pomp-rock. Forty years on, it is everyone’s
favourite singalong song.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The list could go on, and many will
have their own favourites to add to this list. They all date from the days when singles chart position and longevity was very much the test of a song's success; since around the turn of the millennium, chart success has mattered little, indeed few of any age could name the current Number One at any given time. Yet despite failing that test at the time of their release, these songs have become enduring and ubiquitous. What do they have in common?
Well not a lot really, other than that intangible thing called a damn good
tune, often a brilliant hook and above all something we should just call <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">singability</i>.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Let’s just hope we’re still singing <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Sweet Caroline</i> at 10pm on Sunday night,
and that “good time never seemed so good” proves to be true. I think we all
deserve that pleasure. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: georgia;"><b>#ItsComingHome</b></span><o:p></o:p></span></p>Adrianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09507501095053062156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692995260351181594.post-66726587632498409352021-06-15T13:44:00.006+01:002021-06-30T07:38:17.604+01:00"Walking on the Milky Way": some thoughts for Diabetes Awareness Week 2021<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghT1fZxMx9Ga8Ajxb0bkyou_w-4bEeIZWsX-u4vDfY_s16g0P0n5VntDtIKMZOglF9hJTcho_PWuzDvbwI9qB_wyFoj2RyjqptaJb83IUuXUAP40bD0NX1SffEpvZNH_dUCEpzopvI8uo/s697/Untitled.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="697" data-original-width="486" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghT1fZxMx9Ga8Ajxb0bkyou_w-4bEeIZWsX-u4vDfY_s16g0P0n5VntDtIKMZOglF9hJTcho_PWuzDvbwI9qB_wyFoj2RyjqptaJb83IUuXUAP40bD0NX1SffEpvZNH_dUCEpzopvI8uo/w279-h400/Untitled.jpg" width="279" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span>Some thoughts for </span><b><i><a href="https://www.diabetes.org.uk/diabetes-week" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">Diabetes Awareness Week</span></a></i></b><span>, to an extent recycling things which I have said before, but worth modifying and repeating,</span><span> </span><span>precisely in order to raise awareness. When talking about diabetes, I have always tried to strike the balance between melodramatic self-pity and “no big deal”. My <a href="http://adrianlong3.blogspot.com/2017/04/im-still-standing.html" target="_blank"><i><span style="color: #b45f06;">talk at TAD back in 2017</span></i></a> attempted to put this across by portraying diabetes as “something and nothing” and four years on from that talk, and twenty three years on from diagnosis, that’s still my view. I genuinely find it hard to get annoyed by diabetes, or by others’ attitude to it; I am, however, very aware that for others this is not the case. I am sure that I would have found it far more of a burden if it had interfered with my carefree youth, or indeed if I hadn't had the benefit of the monitoring technology which we too easily take for granted. However, I am fortunate to be gifted with a temperament that doesn’t easily get annoyed, so for me diabetes remains a severe irritant rather than a burden. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">However, the one thing that
consistently irks me in the perception of diabetes among those who don’t have experience
of it is the widespread sense that Type One Diabetes is a condition that
affects the young, which as I have written before, overlooks the fact that it can
and does come on at any age, and that it stays with you for life.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">I am resolutely anti-ageist: when
I was young, I had many friends who were much older than me, and now that I am
in my sixties, I have friends of all ages, including many in their twenties and
thirties. I enjoy, but don’t crave, the company of others, and have always
enjoyed most the company of people who are less than obviously like me. So I tend
to find friends among those who have little in common with me, be it interests,
occupation, tastes, gender or age. I believe that I am age and gender blind to
a good extent, and I still feel no different mentally to the child, teenager or
young adult that I once was.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">However, in diabetes terms, I
often feel compelled to draw attention to my age, given that persistent sense that
the <a href="https://www.diabetes.org.uk/type-1-diabetes" target="_blank"><b><i><span style="color: red;">Type One Diabetes</span></i></b></a> with which I live is often thought of as a young persons’
condition, whilst <a href="https://www.diabetes.org.uk/type-2-diabetes" target="_blank"><b><i><span style="color: red;">Type Two Diabetes</span></i></b></a> is often associated with older age. Neither
is true.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">The theme for this year’s
Diabetes Awareness Week is <span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: red;"><b><i><a href="https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLQDlTVSOXD9FM8G-QgGQlPcczrnweL3z0" target="_blank">Diabetes Stories</a></i></b></span></span></span>. Diabetes is a
condition where there are as many stories as there are people living with it,
but sharing stories is important, not least because others may read, recognise and
draw comfort from similarities, and perhaps most importantly, because others
may recognise symptoms and seek potentially life-saving help. My own story
serves to remind others of the fact that Type One can strike at any age, and
that once it does, it is there for life – a life which can and should be no
shorter than anyone else’s. My story is a good illustration of the former, and
I have every intention of ensuring that it proves to be a good illustration of
the latter.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">I was diagnosed at the end 1997,
at the age of precisely 40. Until then, I had lived a life with minimal contact
with the health service. I had the standard childhood illnesses, with the
associated spells off school before the age of 10; I then managed an entire
secondary school career without a single day's absence through illness. I fell
off my bike at the age of 13 and suffered a straightforward arm fracture, which
mended in the standard six-week time frame. And that was about it. Prior to my
diagnosis with diabetes in 1997, I had worked for 17 years as a teacher with a
total of about four days off sick (two lots of two). My doctor's surgery was a place
unfamiliar to me.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Moreover, I was a slim, healthy
and active person: as a child I had walked or cycled to school, played football
as a recreation and spent holidays fell-walking with my family. As an adult I
cycled to work, tended an extensive garden and walked from my home to the local
shops rather than driving. And I still do.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Then, at the age of 40, I had a
very bad case of 'flu - real ‘flu - <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>in
the week running up to the Christmas break at school. A week's absence off work
the first time ever, but no real cause for alarm: there was a big epidemic that
winter (1997-98) and a number of colleagues were off at the same time. Then, on
the day after I had started to feel better again, my condition took a nosedive,
and I went to my GP, alarmed at this apparent recurrence of an illness from
which I had just recovered. I felt tired, thirsty and run-down, but just
thought it was a hangover from my first real illness in years. A routine urine
test revealed very high blood sugar, and an alarmed GP informed me that she was
pretty sure that it was diabetes, referring me to her colleague at the practice
who was the specialist in diabetes. I was briefly thought to be Type Two, but
with symptoms persisting and getting worse, it soon became clear that I was
Type One, and my over-riding emotion was one of relief, not fear. I had found
the cause of what, with hindsight, had been a malaise which had crept up on me
through that autumn, with a battery of symptoms, all of which had been quite
easy to explain away.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Foremost among these symptoms was
the raging thirst. I had always been a thirsty individual, so the feeling of
extreme thirst on hot days, after exercise, or after a meal was a familiar one.
On a number of occasions that autumn, I therefore explained away extreme thirst
by circumstances such as a salty snack, or a dash for a train on a warm
afternoon. Moreover, it was in the late nineties that the sensible but now
overstated and ubiquitous obsession with hydration really took hold. Not that
many years ago, we didn’t all walk around clutching a bottle of water, and
footballers played a full 90 minutes in the sunshine without taking hydration
breaks. So if it doesn’t sound daft, thirst became fashionable in the late 90s,
and I subconsciously bought into that fashion.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Another creeping symptom that
autumn was extreme tiredness, but back in those days, my autumn working life
was absurdly busy. As a Head of Sixth Form, it was the season of university
applications which used to be submitted by an immoveable December 15<sup>th</sup>
deadline, and with 100 or so applications needing detailed references, no administrative
support and little timetable remission I did most of that work in my spare time
before school, after school and through very long evenings. It was exhausting,
so any possibility of it being exacerbated by a medical condition didn’t cross
my mind.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">And then there was weight loss. I
was never overweight, but had like most people gained a bit as middle age
encroached. But then I started to notice a bit of looseness in trousers,
requiring one notch tighter on the belt, or shirt collars feeling a bit loose.
Fair enough, I thought. Losing a few pounds around the 40<sup>th</sup> birthday
was a welcome bonus, I thought, to being very busy and physically active, often
with barely time for lunch or snacks.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Looking back, I was ignoring
symptoms that should have rung alarm bells, but it took that dose of flu to
bring it to a head. I assume that my diabetes came on gradually over those
weeks, but that week’s illness gave it the boost that made it impossible to
ignore. My HbA1c on the day of initial diagnosis was 22.1, and rose to 33.1 a
couple of weeks later - just before I started on insulin. (I love that I can now
look up those numbers on my NHS records)<o:p></o:p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIl5QEeR6k_3Hwd1ADMHB_Ah88ijQ6lwheGidRS18S6sByXsNbFXUrn2eyrT2La_iU5kAvR2DzalOkVVPpXCF88hlqt2OZ6g0O6Rb_AI-7QK5KHUenBalH2XYQ0-ODXiautTCkDc6i84I/s1416/A1c+1997.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="580" data-original-width="1416" height="164" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIl5QEeR6k_3Hwd1ADMHB_Ah88ijQ6lwheGidRS18S6sByXsNbFXUrn2eyrT2La_iU5kAvR2DzalOkVVPpXCF88hlqt2OZ6g0O6Rb_AI-7QK5KHUenBalH2XYQ0-ODXiautTCkDc6i84I/w400-h164/A1c+1997.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><b>The fateful numbers</b></i></td></tr></tbody></table>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Once the insulin started to have
an effect (and that effect comes on almost instantly, as anyone with Type One
will tell you), I was soon back to normal. By the Easter four months after
diagnosis, I led my annual residential school trip to France with about forty
pupils and five colleagues. I continued to do this every year whilst it
remained part of my role at the school. By the June six months after diagnosis
I was planning, setting up, organising and running the end-of-exams Ball for
200 Sixth Formers, a demanding job I undertook every year. In day-to-day terms
over the remaining twenty years of my working life, I continued to take on all
that life and work throw at me, with an unblemished attendance record in a very
stressful job. I never missed a day due to illness through all that time.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">But let's not pretend it's easy.
Living with Type One Diabetes is a 24/7 challenge that we face on top of all as
that we do in life, whatever that may be. You can never forget or overlook it
for more than a few minutes. Every action, every piece of food or drink, every
event needs to be thought through. Any departure from routine is potentially
risky. Most infuriatingly, insulin - the treatment that you self-administer
every day in order to preserve your life - is precisely what threatens to bring
you down in day-to-day terms. I think is fair to say we have a love-hate
relationship with it!</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">And please, if you're reading this
and someone <b><i>of any age</i></b> whom you know or love is showing diabetes symptoms - often now called the
“<b><i><a href="https://www.diabetes.org.uk/get_involved/campaigning/4-ts-campaign" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">Four T's</span></a></i></b>” (thirst, tired, toilet, thinner) – do consider the possibility of Type One
Diabetes. It is not at all related to lifestyle, diet or condition. It can strike
at literally any age, not just in childhood and adolescence. And above all, it should
hold no fears for the person diagnosed or their family. It will be a lifelong nuisance,
which is fully controllable thanks to the wonders of insulin, increasing availability
of sophisticated ways to administer it and very clever ways of monitoring blood
sugar. And it won't stop you doing anything, eating anything or living a long, healthy
and happy life.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">If you are familiar with my blog, you will know that all my posts are given an appropriate song title, with a link to the appropriate song. My title is a song from my <span style="color: red;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span><b><i><a href="https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5eUaHi4AYTE6oZwQ5cL3s2?si=df07f26c549e4edc" target="_blank">DiabetesPlaylist</a></i></b></span></span></span> </span>which I think is one of the most under-rated singles of the
past few decades. OMD’s <i><b><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LdhYzXobHEk" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">Walking on the Milky Way</span></a></b></i> just about qualifies as a
diabetes song in terms of referencing a chocolate treat which is NOT off limits
for people with Type One, but for me it is a bitter-sweet recollection of lost
youth tinged with dignified acceptance of the passing of time and creeping old
age. It is melancholy yet triumphant, and this summer celebrates the 25<sup>th</sup>
anniversary of its release in the iconic summer of 1996. A brilliant introduction,
a fabulous bridge, a soaring chorus and an outro that sounds like a recessional
organ voluntary. If you're old enough, it'll take you back to the summer of '96. And if you're not, a chance to get to know a fine song that you missed.</p>
<!--EndFragment-->Adrianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09507501095053062156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692995260351181594.post-19463918524507131162021-04-14T10:33:00.005+01:002021-04-15T08:23:09.642+01:00“The Land of Make Believe” – in which the late Shirley Williams became PM<p> </p><!--StartFragment-->
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">I hesitate to write about politics here, but
I have long since realised that the bubbles in which we live - both real world and online - are very small, meaning
that my posts are read largely by people of remarkably similar mind-set. I have therefore concluded that there is little risk of causing offence by breaking the
traditional “no politics, no religion” rule. And in any case, there is only so much that can be said about diabetes without repeating oneself or others, so I have always taken opportunities to write about other topics, if only for the enjoyment I derive from gathering and expressing thoughts.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">So here’s a piece about <a href="https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-politics-56720985"><span style="color: #2b00fe;"><b><i>Shirley Williams</i></b></span></a>, a
politician whom I greatly admired, who died this last Monday, April 12<sup>th</sup> 2021 at the age of
90. One reason to write about her is that I have been forcefully reminded
of the passing of the years by my recent Ruby Anniversary, which inevitably
brought reflections on the world of 1981 and what has changed since then, so her death 40 years after her greatest fame was somewhat more poignant for me. Given
that you have to be over 50 years old to have any clear direct memory of
Shirley Williams in her prime, I hope that those who do not remember the events
of the early ‘80s will be interested to read my perspective on those interesting
days, particularly as I also had an indirect personal connection to her which may be of
interest.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">Deaths of the famous rightly provoke much
reflection and retrospection; this week of all weeks in particular, as the
passing of Prince Philip gave us a foretaste in “Operation Forth Bridge” of
what will happen when we finally get to “Operation London Bridge”. On the whole
I have appreciated and enjoyed the way in which Philip’s death has been marked,
and whilst the haters have been rather too visible on social media, I think the
vast majority of us recognise and understand that a remarkable man who achieved
a great deal in an enormously difficult role deserved to be the subject of such
attention, respect and even love.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">But the less well documented death of
Baroness Shirley Williams perhaps deserved greater attention. It reminded me that
she was a politician whose contribution to recent history could perhaps have
been much greater. The fact that I was obliquely connected to her through a
mutual friend who was her mentor has given her death added significance for me.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">She is certainly one of several “might have
been” figures of recent political history, notably on the centre left, taking
her place alongside Tony Crossland, John Smith, Alan Johnson, David Milliband and
Ed Balls as people who had more to offer than political circumstances allowed,
and who might perhaps have steered the country on a different course had they had
the opportunity to become Prime Minister. Obituaries such as the one linked to her name above, or <span style="color: #2b00fe;"><b><i><a href="https://www.theguardian.com/politics/2021/apr/12/lady-shirley-williams-former-labour-minister-dies-aged-90">this</a></i></b></span> from the Guardian rightly drew attention to her self-confessed shortcomings, but there is no doubt that she was for some years considered to be a potential Prime Minister.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">So what was my connection to Shirley
Williams? Well she was a close friend and protégée of my late family friend <b><i><a href="https://www.theguardian.com/education/2009/dec/03/margaret-higginson-obituary">Margaret Higginson</a></i></b>, who was Headmistress of Bolton School (Girls’ Division) from
my mother’s time as a teacher there. Margaret was one of the leading educationalists of her time, a mildly eccentric, lovable
spinster, a “schoolma’am” whom my mother had befriended back in the seventies
by including her in many of our family events and outings, recognising that
being an unmarried headmistress of such a prestigious school was in fact a
lonely job, especially in the holidays. My mother popped her head round the
door of the Head’s study on the last day of term and found the normally stoical
Miss Higginson looking tearful, and when my mother asked if she was OK, she
admitted that holidays were a lonely time for her. Mother invited her for tea a
couple of days later, and she gladly accepted. Thereafter she became to me and my brother Chris an aunt-like figure, a frequent visitor to our home, an extra on family
outings and a guest at our respective weddings. She loved serious conversation,
and I remember her talking proudly of an ex-pupil named Shirley from her time
teaching in London, who had become a Labour MP. Despite leading a
traditional grammar school, which under her headship became an independent school
rather than turning comprehensive, Margaret was a socialist intellectual, whose
headship of Bolton School was characterised by constant reminders to the girls
in her care that they were privileged to be at the school, and therefore
morally obliged to give back to society both whilst at school and in their
lives beyond it.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">As Shirley Williams rose to prominence,
becoming a Cabinet Minister under Harold Wilson’s third administration in 1974,
I was always aware of her connection to Miss Higginson and I followed her rise
to prominence with not only that personal interest but also with admiration for her
manifest authenticity, her ability to connect to people and her espousal of
moderate socialism.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">Sadly, her cabinet career proved to be
short-lived: a few years after her joining the Cabinet, the country had moved
on in a contrary direction. Harold Wilson resigned out of the blue in March
1976, provoking enduring conspiracy theories, and his successor Jim Callaghan
fell victim, like another unelected Labour PM Gordon Brown 30 years later, to a
sense that he was a weak leader without the full authority of an electoral
mandate. A badly-judged response by his government to public sector strikes in what
became known as the “winter of discontent” of 1978-79 allowed the Tories under
their new leader Margaret Thatcher to portray Labour as being in the pockets of
over-powerful trade unions, and to perpetuate a narrative which has persisted
to this day that the late 70s were a period of chaos and decline. My own
memories of the period, and to a good extent economic, social and political data,
beg to differ.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">Nevertheless Thatcher was elected, and
whilst the event was rightly heralded as a step forward for women’s rights, it
was already clear that Mrs T was, as Spitting Image so cuttingly portrayed her,
more like a ruthless, ideologically driven man in women’s clothing. I was
living in France at the time, and on more than one occasion I had cause to
caution ill-informed female French feminist friends who were excited by Britain’s
taking a leap forward for gender equality by electing a woman Prime Minister. <i>“Attention - du point de vue politique,
c’est un homme”</i> are words I recall uttering more than once to bemused
observers.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">I don’t think that history has proved me wrong,
but for a brief period early in Thatcher’s reign, a very different woman,
Shirley Williams, offered a tantalising glimpse of what a less dogmatic female
leader could offer the country. In early 1981, with the country reeling under
the effects of the first doses “Thatcherism”, by which what was now very
clearly a radical right-wing government was seeking to roll back the power of
the Trade Unions and the State with a degree of ruthlessness which, however
justifiable some of her aims, was proving difficult for many - including me -
to stomach. Unfortunately, the Labour opposition was doing what losing parties
often do in response to heavy defeats, namely shifting to its own extremes
under the worthy, admirable but unelectable Michael Foot. Interestingly, history
repeated itself, as it always does in politics, when Labour under the equally unelectable Jeremy Corbyn
handed Boris Johnson and Brexit victory on a plate in 2019.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">However, in 1981, things suddenly got very
interesting. Despairing at Labour’s lurch to the left, a new “Centre Party” was
formed by a group of four ex-Labour ministers, David Owen, Shirley Williams,
Roy Jenkins and Bill Rogers, who left their party and formed a new group, the
Social Democratic Party. I was delighted: the SDP was a natural home for me,
having long called myself a social democrat, not least because of my admiration
for what social democracy had achieved in post-war West Germany. I was newly-married and by two
coincidences the SDP story became entwined in our lives in a manner which was
briefly exhilarating and exciting: Firstly, in autumn 1981 Shirley Williams
bravely announced that she would fight the safe Conservative seat of Crosby,
North Liverpool in a by-election caused by the death of the sitting MP. The
newly-retired Miss Higginson - or “Higgy” as she was always known to us - announced that she would campaign for her
protégée, indulging her own lifelong moderate socialism, free of the need to supress
her true political colours. Moreover, in her famously and lovably insensitive
manner, she invited herself to stay with us in Southport, having realised that
she could commute with my wife to Crosby throughout the final week of a
campaign which was by then making national and international headline news.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFPDH2TfZxDjBzA3bV5qk8v2mkz-5YlacynO14pZbx4uh7tPJvaCgIkDFx_2Up9riJpK_zoKMM54HuQG6Cg2CFu32rmZXkfCRDqUqacKeqsqvje8BFfp8tUxL0XxHGaaOKL-HdFt-hyiw/s410/Shirley+Williams.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="336" data-original-width="410" height="328" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFPDH2TfZxDjBzA3bV5qk8v2mkz-5YlacynO14pZbx4uh7tPJvaCgIkDFx_2Up9riJpK_zoKMM54HuQG6Cg2CFu32rmZXkfCRDqUqacKeqsqvje8BFfp8tUxL0XxHGaaOKL-HdFt-hyiw/w400-h328/Shirley+Williams.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>Shirley Williams campaigning in Crosby, Autumn 1981, <br />flanked by Bill Rogers & David Owen</i></b></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">Then there was a second coincidence: a colleague of my wife’s, a young maths teacher named John Backhouse, was standing as the Labour candidate in the by- election. Backhouse was typical of the Merseyside Labour Party of the time, extreme left and with little grasp of the realities of life in Thatcherite Britain, but it quickly became apparent that Shirley Williams was a real contender, thanks to her erudite, eloquent, pragmatic and moderate policies and her engaging and caring manner. My wife’s school was very much a centre of activity during the campaign, and as Higgy came home every day with tales from the doorsteps of Crosby, we felt genuinely connected to a story that was causing so much attention. On the eve of the election, with a sense of a political earthquake in the air, we attended an SDP rally, accompanied by Higgy, addressed by all four of the now famous “Gang of Four”. It was a truly exhilarating event, with the feeling of a new political beginning very real. Shirley Williams duly won a decisive victory in what had been a rock solid Tory seat and for a few months, with unemployment soaring and Margaret Thatcher proving to be divisive and inflexible, it really looked as if this centrist force could consign Thatcherism to history as a short, failed experiment.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">But then in April 1982, General Galtieri’s
Argentinian Junta took the fateful decision to invade the Falkland Islands,
giving Thatcher the opportunity to transform herself almost overnight into a
latter-day war leader, dispatching a task force to an ultimately successful
old-fashioned war with a frankly incompetent and ill-equipped enemy. The
political tide turned, Thatcher won two more elections, transforming the UK
forever, and the SDP died a long and lingering death. I had joined the party
and done a bit of door-knocking and leafletting for the May 1982 local
elections in Southport, but it was immediately apparent, even on the doorsteps
of Birkdale, that Galtieri had unwittingly saved Thatcher.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">Shirley Williams lost her seat at the next
General Election, and remained a public figure of significant influence, as the
many tributes paid to her have acknowledged, but never came anywhere near power again. As a peer, she exemplified exactly
what members of the House of Lords should be, namely a wise old head and a
mentor and advisor to younger, less experienced politicians of all persuasions.
She was a frequent guest on shows like BBC’s Question Time, often as a nuanced
voice of opposition to prevailing trends, and her lifelong pro-European views
came to the fore during the grim years of national infighting over Brexit.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">Meanwhile, centenary commemorations of the
First World War brought fresh attention to her mother Vera Brittan’s wonderful book
“Testament of Youth”, as powerful a telling of the impact of that conflict on
those left behind as I have ever read.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">I met Shirley again relatively late in her
life when she was a speaker at the memorial service to Miss Higginson, held at
Bolton School in 2010. It was a difficult day for me, as my brother and I took
our mother, who was at the time displaying rapidly worsening symptoms of the
Alzheimer’s Disease which was about to consume her, and in the event that was
the last time she attended any sort of public social event. Shirley Williams
was eloquent and generous in her tribute to Higgy, and was every bit the
sharply attentive conversationalist that her public persona suggested.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">Her death leaves me reflecting, not for the
first time, that politics at the highest level is not really a game for those
who display the most authentically human, or should I say humane, qualities. My
own fifty-plus years of keen interest in politics tells me that almost all of
the most appealing characters - from all parties - are those who never sought,
or were overlooked for, high office: Alan Johnson, Sir Peter Bottomley, Sir
Gerald Kaufman, Harriet Harman, Ed Balls, Alan Duncan and many more.
Conversely, the most successful Prime Ministers of modern times - Churchill,
Wilson, Thatcher, even Blair were successful despite very apparent character defects
which made them less than attractive to many, yet eminently electable, highly
successful, and indeed admired by many. I cannot help but speculate that history may add Johnson to that list. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">I don’t believe this "nice guys don't win" thing to be confined to
politics: in many walks of life, the toughness required to be a successful
leader is difficult to find in “nice” people, and certainly in high-profile
management roles, most obviously football management, the ruthless streak
required is commonly found to be an essential prerequisite for success. It is no coincidence that I,
a pragmatist, conciliator and conflict-avoider, never sought seriously to climb
the greasy pole of school management.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">A depressing conclusion? Well perhaps it
is, but then again, I do believe that it “takes all sorts”, and among the many
things that the past year or so has taught us is to value authentic human
values such as kindness and generosity, and to look for true heroism among the
unsung heroes like nurses and research scientists, and to value those who say
less and do more. The relative silence emanating from the White House since
January has been a refreshing pleasure after the incessant nasty “noise”
generated by its previous occupant. The meek may not inherit the earth, but the
earth is a better place because of them, and thankfully they are in the
majority.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">It’s my blog, so it needs a song title: how
about <i>The Land of Make Believe</i> by Bucks Fizz? A UK No1 from the heyday
of Shirley Williams and the SDP in early 1982, a song derided at the time but
now rightly lauded as an overlooked classic. The “land of make believe” is the
one where the UK elects a modest, gentle, conciliatory Prime Minister, but by a
nice coincidence, the writer of that song claims, somewhat spuriously I have to
say, that it was an anti-Thatcher song. Really? </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Something nasty in your garden's waiting </i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Patiently, till it can have your heart</i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Try to go but it won't let you </i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Don't you know it's out to get you running </i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Keep on running </i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">They're running after you babe..</i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">Maybe it is an anti-Thatcher song. Either
way, enjoy it <b><i><a href="https://youtu.be/l6DOGITIfAY"><span style="color: red;">here</span></a></i></b>, and think of an alternative reality from 1982 onwards in which Galtieri
hadn't invaded the Falklands, Thatcher had only lasted one term, and Shirley
Williams had risen to high office, even PM. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">Now that is, truly, a <i style="font-weight: bold;">Land of Make Believe</i>.<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><o:p></o:p></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<!--EndFragment-->Adrianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09507501095053062156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692995260351181594.post-25198672454278675472021-03-08T16:12:00.005+00:002021-03-09T13:26:46.549+00:00I hope I'm old before I die: Type One Diabetes in older age<p> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><a href="https://youtu.be/mSCqeuaP3Lo"><span style="color: red;">“I hope I’m old before I die”</span></a></i></b>
sang Robbie Williams in 1997, in a clever re-working of the iconic line from
the Who’s <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“My Generation”</i></b> - <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“hope I die before I get old”</i></b><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">To compare those two lines,
written just over thirty years apart, is in itself is enough to provoke thoughts about changing attitudes since the sixties: <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Pete Townsend’s words from 1965 reflect
the pervading sense in the sixties that to be young was everything, and that
the older generation had nothing more to offer than outdated, suffocating values
and attitudes which were being swept away by the tide of youth culture. I am
just about old enough to have sensed, understood and identified with that
attitude at the time, which still makes me feel a little guilty: I don’t think
that in my own childhood and teens I valued and respected my parents’ and
grandparents’ generations as much as I should have. Being born and brought up
on constant reminiscences about two world wars fostered in those of us born in the 50s
and 60s a sense that the first half of the twentieth century had been something of a failure,
best forgotten. In later decades, the so-called generation gap, so apparent in the 60s, has become far
less of a thing - look at the universal affection from all age groups for the
likes of Captain Sir Tom Moore. In more general terms, it is certainly true
that observation of Remembrance in November has grown in importance and reach
since my childhood, despite the fact that the World Wars have receded into the
memories of very few. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">By the time of Robbie Williams’ words
from 1997, and in the years since, older age has become a desirable goal as
much as a fear, and old people somehow don’t seem old in the same way that they did when I was young. The
likes of the Stones, Springsteen, the surviving Beatles, Sir Tom Jones and Dolly Parton
are still musically active and admired by all generations, and national
treasures like Sir David Attenborough and Dame Judi Dench are idolised and
revered by even the very young, not despite but because of their age: it is
certainly no longer a young person’s world. All of those mentioned are way
beyond pensionable age, yet when I was a child, pensioners were men in flat
caps and women with blue rinses who sat on park benches, went for a nap in the
afternoon and complained about “long-haired layabouts” and “loud and vulgar pop
music”. No wonder Pete Townsend wanted none of it - although at 75, it looks as if
he didn’t get his wish!<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">So as I grow older, I still feel
that I have much to look forward to, and my appetite for and anticipation of
what the future holds feels in many ways the same that I felt when I was a teenager
looking forward to the adult world. I like being retired: it feels like a
reward, a well-deserved period of freedom and choice, after so many years of
subservience to the demands and stresses of the workplace. I am, like many of
my generation, more than a little irked that the Coronavirus Pandemic has
stolen over a year of my remaining years of good health and active life, but I
am optimistic that I have enough years of fun left before I end up sitting in a
care home watching TV all day.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">And then there’s diabetes….<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">I live with Type One Diabetes. It’s
a condition which could impair my ability to enjoy life, and even foreshorten
it if I am unlucky. So I have good reason to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">hope I’m old before I die</i>! And at 63, I’m doing alright - so far.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Those of us who live with Type
One get mildly irritated (and some get angry) when muggles living without the
condition misrepresent diabetes in one way or another. For those of us living
with Type One, generalisations in the media about “diabetes” without mentioning
type are a familiar irritant, and well-meaning excitement from others about
cures and reversals that they have read about induces mild amusement rather than
resentment in me. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">But another common misconception
about Type One is more annoying for the likes of me (diagnosed at 40, alive and well at 63): the perception of Type One as a disease of the young. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Wrong on two counts:</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"></p><ul><li><span style="text-indent: -18pt;">Firstly, young people get it, but they don’t die
of it, nor can they be cured, so they get old, just like anyone else.</span></li></ul><ul><li><span style="text-indent: -18pt;">Secondly, you can develop Type One at any age.</span></li></ul><p></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 150%; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -18pt;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="line-height: 150%; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -18pt;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">If you are
lucky and prudent, you will live to a ripe old age with Type One Diabetes, whatever your age at diagnosis. Look at these
figures recently published for people living with Type One in the UK:-<o:p></o:p></p><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiludmTZHyQceIIoI7-IGvIxkl74Q_ovYmGObqdvni524MqkDvksWaQJE9RrqgWvGADtXevUB-pQSyZX0rf83lP6AyCZomMDJA2-lD8vwsqkEAb0k_ZbZtte0NOfmlt4Qc21H45IFy5cLU/s841/Eu1gZF6WYAIB9df.png"><img border="0" data-original-height="534" data-original-width="841" height="254" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiludmTZHyQceIIoI7-IGvIxkl74Q_ovYmGObqdvni524MqkDvksWaQJE9RrqgWvGADtXevUB-pQSyZX0rf83lP6AyCZomMDJA2-lD8vwsqkEAb0k_ZbZtte0NOfmlt4Qc21H45IFy5cLU/w400-h254/Eu1gZF6WYAIB9df.png" width="400" /></a></div>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />So if we regard 40 as the approximate
midpoint of a full life expectancy, then it’s not far off a 50/50 split: almost
half of those living with Type One diabetes are over 40, and over 13% of them
are over 70. Type One is far from being a young person’s condition, and as
diabetes care, monitoring and insulin regulation improve, there is every
reason to believe that the number of “Type One oldies” will grow - I certainly
hope so. The very success of treatment and care for Type One diabetes since the
discovery of insulin therapy in 1922 inevitably leads to there being a growing
cohort of older people with Type One. The discredited epithet “juvenile” for
Type One still persists enough to sometimes gives the impression that it is a
young peoples’ condition, which it of course isn’t. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">The number of older people living with Diabetes
UK medals for milestones of living with diabetes is already remarkable: recipients of the <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Alan Nabarro Medal </i></b>(50
years), the <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i>Robert Lawrence Medal</i></b>
(60 years), the <i><b>John Macleod Medal</b></i> (70 years), and the <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">HG Wells Medal</i></b> (80 years)
are living proof that diabetes is no barrier to a long, healthy and fulfilling
life, and it is my personal pleasure and privilege to count medallists <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><a href="https://twitter.com/LisWarren"><span style="color: #2b00fe;">Lis Warren</span></a></b> and <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><a href="https://twitter.com/PeteDaviesType1"><span style="color: #2b00fe;">Pete Davies</span></a></b> in particular as great friends from the diabetes
community. DUK medallists recently held their first get-together, sadly only on
Zoom, but a personal triumph for organiser Lis Warren, who does so much to promote the
welfare of people of ALL ages living with ALL types of diabetes. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoJTcHcpiFLu1mRGre2KLQSpI9qxdUzqxO9m_fLJNLwh8ZZR942g6MpI1OYd4AX5LvLF9-fbgQQLbqQ1LFRibdTTgoExADJ7mgLejf0oWZEdc749tQV-FaRy7iC-NT3h_bTIbL6uCQwek/s2048/EvaoBL3XMAEB-0V.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="2048" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoJTcHcpiFLu1mRGre2KLQSpI9qxdUzqxO9m_fLJNLwh8ZZR942g6MpI1OYd4AX5LvLF9-fbgQQLbqQ1LFRibdTTgoExADJ7mgLejf0oWZEdc749tQV-FaRy7iC-NT3h_bTIbL6uCQwek/w400-h400/EvaoBL3XMAEB-0V.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><b><i>Diabetes UK Medallists at their recent Zoom get-together</i></b></span></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">It is a small
personal ambition of mine to reach the milestone of a Nabarro Medal, despite my
relatively late start: I’ll have to make it to age 90 to do so, but why not? I cannot
help but wonder what it will be like to live with Type One at an advanced age. I
accept that I am too old to have any prospect of being cured of Type One, and I
also accept that whilst the health of older people is much better than it was
even in the recent past, I will over the years that I have left become weaker,
frailer, more forgetful, less capable and so more dependent upon others. I
think that the particular needs of those living with Type One in older age is
an area which will require greater attention and investment as their number
increases.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Another aspect of this issue is more subtle: perhaps consideration should be given to the portrayal of people with Type One in material about the
condition - leaflets, websites, magazines and the like. Pictures of people with Type One, and of things like insulin pumps, CGMs, flash monitors are overwhelmingly of children or of bright,
attractive young people. Try typing "Type One Diabetes" into an image search and you will not see many older people. The subconscious impression is propagated that this is a disease of the young, or that the devices and therapies used to treat it are the province of young people. This is, perhaps,
the case at present, but as the techie, looping generation ages, and things
like CGM and flash become the norm rather than the exception, so we should
surely see these devices on bodies of all shapes, sizes and - crucially - ages.
Access to pumps, flash, CGMs, closed loops and other dia-technology yet to be
discovered should not be regarded as “just for younger PWD” and become more of
a priority for those of more advanced years.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">So yes, I do indeed <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">hope I’m old before I die </i>and indeed by some
measures I am already fulfilling that wish. I hope that my older years with Type One Diabetes will
be enjoyable, healthy and active. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">But to borrow another line from Robbie's song, I don’t think I’ll ever <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">live to see the day the Pope gets high - </i>unless, of course, he develops Type One Diabetes at the age of 84. Now that would be a story....<o:p></o:p></p>Adrianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09507501095053062156noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692995260351181594.post-32824185704000288762021-02-10T16:33:00.002+00:002021-02-10T18:47:30.656+00:00The Only Way is Up: getting the Covid-19 Vaccination<p><span style="text-align: justify;">Two days ago, on Monday, 8</span><sup style="text-align: justify;">th</sup><span style="text-align: justify;">
February, I received my first Covid-19 vaccination. I feel moved to post an
account of how I came to get it, how it was and how it felt afterwards because
I was blown away by the positive response of others on social media when I
posted news of my good fortune. </span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisVtoaRME9MpoWDb37RO4SvSSXZj0Uq33J1fWAWbsqiMjNd8bePSjcptZSOqw7VUpUA0TP2ZcPxmUi-wovwl0KkHcG6XH0_hWb-nJkOQ061oteSSAsRBGNL20Olof-mkWiV5dorVQ4ZMI/s2048/20210208_181952.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisVtoaRME9MpoWDb37RO4SvSSXZj0Uq33J1fWAWbsqiMjNd8bePSjcptZSOqw7VUpUA0TP2ZcPxmUi-wovwl0KkHcG6XH0_hWb-nJkOQ061oteSSAsRBGNL20Olof-mkWiV5dorVQ4ZMI/w300-h400/20210208_181952.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">I was at first a little hesitant to do the “I've had my jab” thing on social media, fearful that it might look rather smug and “look at me”. I sought the opinion of a wise and trusted friend who often shares my views on such matters, and she assured me that to post about it would be welcomed by many. She was right. I am a very small voice, but if enough small voices say the same thing, they become a loud and influential voice. I am pleased and proud to learn that vaccine take-up is so high in the UK, but worried that it has been low in certain groups. I hope that anyone reading this will be reassured that it's the right thing to do, for themselves and for everyone. We all owe it to each other to talk up the good news of this rollout, not least given how much else has apparently gone wrong here in the UK.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">I was aware that the UK’s
vaccination programme was going remarkably well, and that as a man of my age
living with Type One Diabetes, I could reasonably expect to be called sooner
rather than later. However, I was thinking maybe sometime in March. I was more
anxious for others in my household, three of whom work in schools and two of
whom are required to be there in person; I am in the fortunate position of
being able largely to control my own exposure to others, although I have
throughout the pandemic resisted the urge to hide away and attempt to eliminate
all risk. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Then last Friday, my younger
daughter, who has mild learning difficulties, received a call from our GP
inviting her to come for a vaccination on the following Monday, at the end of
the working day. We had not been aware that she was in Priority Group 4, but
they explained that all with a registered learning difficulty are classified as
such for vaccination purposes. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Great news, we thought, not least
as her work as a welfare assistant in a primary school exposes her daily to
risk.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Then on the day of her
appointment, we got another call from the GP practice: they had more doses than
anticipated, enough that if I and my wife were able to come along too, we could
all three have our vaccinations. We are both in our early sixties, and of
course I have an added background risk through diabetes.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">The whole process, from
notification to injection, exemplified all that is good about how the UK’s
programme is working. It felt personal and local, and strengthened my sense
that the vaccine rollout will prove to be UK Primary Care’s finest hour. Ours
is a relatively large practice in a small town - <b><i><u><a href="https://www.ashtreehousesurgery.nhs.uk/" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">Ash Tree House</span></a></u></i></b> in Kirkham,
Lancashire; we have been patients there since moving to the area in 1986. Over
the years, the practice has been there through all our medical needs of those 35
years, and many of the staff, clinical and non-clinical, have been known to us
through personal or other professional and personal connections. We have had
many occasions on which to feel grateful for their work.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">In the case of this vaccination,
communication was by phone, and was cheery, concise and personal. Our
appointment was at the clinic in Kirkham, a place familiar to us from when the
children were little. Not an ideal venue for a mass vaccination programme, but
the most suitable NHS building in the town. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">On arrival, we were greeted by a
man and a woman marshalling the Car Park in hi-vis jackets, wrapped up against
the bitter cold and wearing masks; only when we got near did we and they realise
that we were old and good friends, former neighbours with whom we remain in
touch and with whom we still socialise - well we used to! Another great thing -
volunteers doing their bit: they are both retired police officers. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">They, and everyone whom we saw
throughout the process, were friendly, upbeat and welcoming. A young woman from
our practice (a member of the admin staff) was at the door, letting people in
one by one from the queue shivering outside the building. She herself was
clearly freezing, and had to repeat the same words to everyone, but did so with
a cheery smile, an apology for the wait, and an apologetic tone that suggested
she was well aware that her questions checking our status were almost certainly
superfluous.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">The Practice Manager who checked
us in and showed us to the waiting area recognised me and greeted me by name -
such is life in a small town community. Her manner, at the end of a long and
busy day, when she and everyone had clearly been on their feet all day, was
positive, welcoming and reassuring. There was, throughout the building, a
palpable sense of togetherness and teamwork in a less than ideal setting. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">After a short wait in a room
carefully adapted with temporary screens for distancing purposes, we were
called through to be vaccinated. My wife and daughter received their jabs from
one of the GPs, I from a practice nurse. It was quick and painless.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Side effects? Yes, entirely as
predicted, and no reason whatsoever for alarm or hesitancy. We all had some
degree of flu-like symptoms: shivery, achy, and lethargic. But very much just
the next day, and by now (the second day) I am fine, as are they.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">And which vaccine? Ours was the <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Oxford
AstraZeneca</i></b> - very much the dominant and default vaccine in the UK at
present, for well-documented reasons. I have to say I wanted it to be that one,
for the very silly reason that I am genuinely proud to be a graduate of a
university whose scientists have done so much to develop and bring this vaccine
to us at such astounding speed. Not long ago, the pernicious spirit of Trump
and Brexit was claiming that we had all “had enough of experts”. I always
thought this was dangerous nonsense, and if there’s one thing the Coronavirus
pandemic has taught us, it’s that we sure need our experts. And Oxford
University, so often criticised as élite and out of touch, has done us all a
favour by reminding us that we need expertise and excellence, we need élite
places of learning, we need places that select the best, and it’s not entirely
their fault if those who prove to be the best do not come from the broadest of
social backgrounds – that is an issue for society to address, and I wrote about
it<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">
<u><a href="https://adrianlong3.blogspot.com/2017/10/follow-you-follow-me-role-models-and.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">here</span></a></u></i></b><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">So there you are: a positive
story in a year of gloom. It is my fervent hope that I shall soon see loads of
posts on social media of people I know having had their jab. I shall get the
same pleasure seeing that as others appeared to get from mine, and it will
reinforce the sense that we are, despite all the caveats and warnings, heading
to a better place as the days start to get longer and warmer. And just as we so
joyfully did at that Olympic Opening Ceremony back in 2012, let us celebrate
and be proud of our NHS, and all who work in it. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Thank you, NHS, Thank you, scientists. Thank you, experts.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">I need an optimistic and upbeat
song as a title – how about <u><b><i><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vjD3EVC1-zU" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">The Only Way is Up</span></a></i></b></u>?<o:p></o:p></p>Adrianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09507501095053062156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692995260351181594.post-55796876348521980812021-01-30T14:36:00.012+00:002021-01-30T16:53:19.906+00:00Lead Kindly Light: A Candlemas connection to an ancestor to be proud of.<p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><i><span style="line-height: 107%;">“Lead Kindly Light”</span></i></b><span style="line-height: 107%;"> is not exactly on the A-List of well-known hymns,
even to regular churchgoers, but it has long been well</span><span style="text-align: left;">-loved by fans of
choral music. The tune to which it is most commonly sung these days, </span><b style="text-align: left;"><i>Sandon</i></b><span style="text-align: left;">,
was composed by my 3x Great Grandfather </span><b style="text-align: left;"><i>Charles Henry Purday,</i></b><span style="text-align: left;"> a nineteenth century composer and musician who sang at the coronation of Queen Victoria. Purday is better remembered as a music publisher, and as a pioneer in the movement for
copyright law reform, but <b><i>Sandon</i></b> remains as his best-known musical legacy. </span></span></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Purday's appealing melody, and the plaintive yet comforting words
written by John Henry Newman at a time when he was feeling troubled and alone, make it a particularly appropriate piece for our
difficult times:</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMOlBQHmXkTAVf_aSB9xUjbdb92TTySvhN4mCH9rqa8GBObSOiU8HJgVuZuCYYrTR99Bqx2Fku8hkMowx_5uI5HiTPJqbiQeJAmvDOPASSqnv-2NPjprhfRq3XwoBMp6uD_uvL34GrO70/s647/LKL.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" data-original-height="204" data-original-width="647" height="126" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMOlBQHmXkTAVf_aSB9xUjbdb92TTySvhN4mCH9rqa8GBObSOiU8HJgVuZuCYYrTR99Bqx2Fku8hkMowx_5uI5HiTPJqbiQeJAmvDOPASSqnv-2NPjprhfRq3XwoBMp6uD_uvL34GrO70/w400-h126/LKL.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">However, it also works well as a title for some thoughts on <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Candlemas</i></b>,
one of many neglected or forgotten Christian festivals which could do so much
to help brighten our year, especially in times like the present, which are both
literally and metaphorically dark. Before moving on to that, have a listen to my
Great-Great-Great Grandfather’s composition, sung here by Ely Cathedral Choir:</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"></span></span></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://open.spotify.com/track/0UjPij2H3426yf1mj5DOpk"><span style="color: red;"><b>https://open.spotify.com/track/0UjPij2H3426yf1mj5DOpk</b></span></a><b><o:p></o:p></b></span></span></i></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">So, what of Candlemas? Among the many reasons why I follow
and commemorate the life of Jesus of Nazareth is that doing so can give a form
and pattern to our necessarily secular lives and provide opportunities for
constructive reflection. Candlemas Day could be seen as a landmark in the
Christian year, a moment of ending and new beginning. It falls towards the end
of winter as we start to see the first signs of spring. Candlemas is a rather
forgotten and neglected festival, marking the last day of the Christmas Season,
and traditionally the day on which a Christmas Crib is put away, having been left
in place when all the other decorations came down on 12th night. In our house,
the two cribs stay defiantly in place until February 2nd.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEu-eNvTlPg8XH1fD4hMSyB9uNoW7DvIdzVLfLTAuFT5RZZb2ruT3pc9JumHIZc5Nkszac6zp4SjegQbo9yIVtS6XyuV9fCuyX3KRXIkUKINTE8zV4hTGYemz0r5N3bqdvIpuhWlHDbEA/s320/Presentation.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="290" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEu-eNvTlPg8XH1fD4hMSyB9uNoW7DvIdzVLfLTAuFT5RZZb2ruT3pc9JumHIZc5Nkszac6zp4SjegQbo9yIVtS6XyuV9fCuyX3KRXIkUKINTE8zV4hTGYemz0r5N3bqdvIpuhWlHDbEA/w290-h320/Presentation.jpg" width="290" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: inherit;">Candlemas commemorates the Presentation of Jesus in the Temple, six weeks
after his birth, as told in the Gospel of St Luke. <span style="line-height: 107%;">Presentation of a child was - still is - a standard rite of
passage for a Jewish child, but the story is told of an old man in the Temple,
Simeon, who on seeing the infant Jesus brought for Presentation, declared that
he had "seen the Light of the World",
and could now die happy. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Simeon's words give us the <b><i>Nunc Dimitis</i></b>, a familiar
part of the traditional Evensong. I personally find these among my favourite
words from scripture, replete with meaning and comfort:-</span></div><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="background: rgb(255, 249, 238); line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7PchgEJ6R-qdWsXbLkM878lRQe6LBH0yOYWPmyb55Ven2e8QOqxgfWqT4L7E1ZFYmSgCu-oO1Aby7-vJnxifYKdBxR84Re1hmsPLmZvtelMd27ebIAuvHgmJ0Z4Lhl1vvoJLUwrJJmY8/s603/Nunc.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="208" data-original-width="603" height="138" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7PchgEJ6R-qdWsXbLkM878lRQe6LBH0yOYWPmyb55Ven2e8QOqxgfWqT4L7E1ZFYmSgCu-oO1Aby7-vJnxifYKdBxR84Re1hmsPLmZvtelMd27ebIAuvHgmJ0Z4Lhl1vvoJLUwrJJmY8/w400-h138/Nunc.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">It's easy to see how this recognition of Jesus as the "Light of the World" developed into Candlemas: a festival of light in the depths of winter is an appealing idea that long pre-dates Christianity, so the Church took it over in the same way that Christmas and Easter were "Christianised" versions of earlier festivals. What's surprising is that neither the Church nor the exploitative commercial world has ever made much of Candlemas in the way that happens with Christmas, Easter and various Saints days.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I think that's a shame. If ever there was a time of year when
we need a nice little extra festival, it's surely the end of January/start of
February. It's famously a depressing time of the year, with "Blue
Monday" in mid-January often designated by expert psychologists as the
most depressing day of the year. A case of being paid a lot of money for
stating the obvious if ever there was one. So surely, we should all jump at the
chance to have a little celebration at this gloomy time of the year. A bit of
light in the darkness, just as Jesus was, and is, a shining light of goodness
in an often dark and evil world.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">In recent years, the church has adopted</span><span style="text-align: left;"> </span><b style="text-align: left;"><i>Christingle</i></b><span style="text-align: left;"> </span><span style="text-align: left;">as a festival of light, but rather unwisely Christingle gets crammed into Advent and so gets rather caught up in the pre-Christmas busy-ness. Caught between the church's unwillingness to sing carols and celebrate during the restrained and dignified season of Advent, and a desire to anticipate the coming of the Light of the World, Christingle seems to me to be rather an incongruous intrusion in Advent, which deserves better.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">So how about we start celebrating Candlemas a bit more, with or without the Christian overtones? A
nice, low-key affirmation of light in the darkness of February, with perhaps a
wholesome winter casserole at a candlelit table. How about a drink to celebrate
the end of dry January? And as for music, well the playlist, both sacred and
secular, is wonderful: </span><i style="font-family: inherit;">Love Shine a
light, Shine, Candle in the Wind, If I can Dream, Blinded by the Light, Ray of
Light, any Nunc Dimitis, Lead Kindly Light, Christ is the World's true Light</i><span style="font-family: inherit;">
- even </span><i style="font-family: inherit;">Shine Jesus Shine </i><span style="font-family: inherit;">if you
really must. There's a playlist at the bottom of this post.</span></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">It's not an original idea to mark Candlemas. It's a day
steeped in folklore, derived from the idea that the end of winter may, or may
not, be in sight. The Americans call it <b><i>Groundhog Day</i></b> - when this animal
emerges from its burrow after hibernation and goes back in if it sees its own
shadow - this recognises the not unreasonable idea that if the weather is sunny
and settled at the start of February, there is every chance that winter will
re-appear before spring finally gets going.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The same idea is present in an old English rhyme:<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD7_h7xOGgmYeB5OQ0h9ghM3sTB7Am85VSIXI8HkGGApGgJXA0tuttvFw_St9SyruInq8wJV19VT4Ts9rWa8n19esbXW8IIPx4KVxHWA526BRq7kvUngqdsRCdonceQLJIyp5uDMgAwpY/s538/Untitled.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" data-original-height="195" data-original-width="538" height="145" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD7_h7xOGgmYeB5OQ0h9ghM3sTB7Am85VSIXI8HkGGApGgJXA0tuttvFw_St9SyruInq8wJV19VT4Ts9rWa8n19esbXW8IIPx4KVxHWA526BRq7kvUngqdsRCdonceQLJIyp5uDMgAwpY/w400-h145/Untitled.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0wPi-Tkk1B520I-MrDZH9yGrn6KNXeBfitMZI6mRP6Wbmf_hdT4BUf2NvnzkaiC7V0cj5FBiHGvuoetoCH0IJZgosfSuIA9o1Tcx4MnRPLjpvzrE1P33ZQTp2DAYOa4UCu8rVHVL-gyg/s400/Candlemas.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNr6ggXwEWJt8VaxbJigLipzC4pNAehLfidX63nMdBc79ntB_Ml6im-nq6o8Nck1dGX04XBYHf-mXlEtc2KVq-nvB0xJPb10wIQoszsXvdId-aJ6ZmqrQvqzLtnkXStGHPi47eDI0B4Gk/s2048/Chandelier.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNr6ggXwEWJt8VaxbJigLipzC4pNAehLfidX63nMdBc79ntB_Ml6im-nq6o8Nck1dGX04XBYHf-mXlEtc2KVq-nvB0xJPb10wIQoszsXvdId-aJ6ZmqrQvqzLtnkXStGHPi47eDI0B4Gk/w150-h200/Chandelier.jpg" width="150" /></span></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">So keep an eye on the weather on February 2nd, and
celebrate Candlemas that day, or maybe the weekend before or after. Whether as
a Christian wishing to acclaim Jesus as a shining light in an often evil world,
like a candle in a darkened room, or just as a welcome relief from the doom and
gloom of January and a chance to keep those Easter eggs at bay, it's worth a
go. Close the curtains, dim the lights, pour yourself a nice glass of red,
light a candle or two, and enjoy the winter whilst looking forward to summer. </span></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Here's a link to my Candlemas Spotify Playlist:<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="MsoHyperlink"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3g8rDP7zof8M8AAgaQsxD1"><span style="color: red; font-family: inherit;"><b>https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3g8rDP7zof8M8AAgaQsxD1</b></span></a></span></span><span style="font-family: trebuchet; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><span class="MsoHyperlink"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><br /><span class="MsoHyperlink"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></span></span></p>Adrianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09507501095053062156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692995260351181594.post-87755996031671662012021-01-06T15:13:00.058+00:002021-02-04T19:19:17.679+00:00Wake me up before you go-go (too low): FreeStyle Libre 2 comes to the NHS.<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">The
long-awaited <b><i><a href="https://www.freestylelibre.co.uk/libre/discover/discover-freestyle-libre-2.html"><span style="color: red;">FreeStyle Libre 2</span></a></i></b> has arrived in the UK, and is now available on
NHS prescription as a straightforward replacement for Libre 1. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">It
has to be said that compared to all that is going on in the world of healthcare
at the dawn of 2021, this is of relatively minor importance, but it is
nevertheless good for those of us living with diabetes to have a small piece of
good news to greet the new year, and a welcome reminder that the NHS continues
to move forward and evolve policy even in the midst of the Covid-19 Pandemic, its biggest ever
challenge.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">I
hope that this post can answer a few questions, give everyone living with Type
One Diabetes something realistic to look forward to in terms of improving their
well-being, and as I have always done since becoming involved in a small way
with the diabetes community, can do something to widen access to the benefits of
a small but life-changing device.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">A couple
of formalities before I move on:<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">Firstly,
<i><b>a disclaimer</b></i>: I am able to review Libre 2 at this early stage having been
provided with two sensors and a reader by the manufacturers Abbott. I am one of
a number of UK users to whom this opportunity has been offered, with no strings
attached other than a requirement to disclose that fact. I have been part of
this group since early 2015, having been one of the first in the UK to use
Libre after its launch in late 2014. I was able to afford to self-fund it at
the time, and as soon as I started using it, found it to be the single
innovation which could most improve my life with diabetes. I wrote good things
about it on social media and in a blog, and was subsequently contacted by Abbott to ask if I
could feature in some promotional material, and was invited to gatherings of
people with diabetes to share knowledge and opinions across different countries.
We have never been asked to endorse or advertise Abbott's products. I have
always been acutely aware of my good fortune, and have tried to use it to help
spread the benefits of Libre as widely as possible, and that remains the case
with this latest new version.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">Secondly,
<i><b>a caution</b></i>: the roll-out of Libre 2 is under way, but at a time when the NHS is
under extreme pressure, and it is perfectly reasonable if HCPs are unable to
prioritise requests to switch to it, or to deal with queries and concerns. If
you read on, you will see that I am very positive about it, but I am at present
unsure whether I will be able to get Libre 2 sensors on prescription straight
away. I shall ask, but with a clear expectation that I may have to be a patient
patient. Please show patience and understanding if you can't get it; it's
great, but you can live without it for a few more weeks while greater needs are
attended to. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">So
what is there to say about FreeStyle Libre 2?<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">Well
relatively little to be honest - and that's a good thing! It's the Libre that millions
around the world have grown to know and love, but with what many saw as its
main weakness now addressed: it can warn you when you're going low or high. In that
sense, it is much closer to a “true” CGM than Libre 1 and therefore a big step
forward. And it's still free to those who meet the criteria.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">The
sensors look the same, come in the same familiar yellow box with a different
name on, and are applied with the same applicator. Out of the box, it is impossible to distinguish a Libre 2 sensor from a Libre 1 one. Crucially, they cost the
same, so no CCG or doctor should have any reason to delay or refuse a switch on
cost grounds. <o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGZmcnuo1zCo0OcSaTpkAmmuWqS0UpVqMNZ7RC_gzzvLSHeyYJ8FB9nMRgSJSV5v7PJ6WfWhg6EDYbhzaYpFXdcHPGzjRpbuYzP3ptGrax3v87T_swZ-KwcVS9BFMDlHDReYc1tnp3KQI/s2048/20210106_150659+%25281%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="353" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGZmcnuo1zCo0OcSaTpkAmmuWqS0UpVqMNZ7RC_gzzvLSHeyYJ8FB9nMRgSJSV5v7PJ6WfWhg6EDYbhzaYpFXdcHPGzjRpbuYzP3ptGrax3v87T_swZ-KwcVS9BFMDlHDReYc1tnp3KQI/w400-h353/20210106_150659+%25281%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">You
don't even need a new reader if you've been using the <b><i>LibreLink</i></b> phone app, but
if you want to use a reader, you do need to change it, and Abbott will swap it
free of charge. I did ask for a reader, and will explain why later in this
post...<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">You
don't have to set the alarms, but if you don't set at least one of low or high,
there seems little point in getting it at all! I set mine for low (it defaults
to the widely accepted 3.9) but not high, and it worked faultlessly. On my
first day using it, I started the sensor after breakfast and deliberately took
my usual dose of insulin but with a bit less to eat (be careful if you do that; I
was home all morning with others in the house!) Sure enough, my level fell and even
though I knew it was falling both by how I felt and by a few swipes, I waited
with excitement for the alarm. (I am easily amused). When it came, it was strident
and persistent:</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dz4d6q9m_-ITwo9XU1cRUXv151C306EM3NUKXlBlk2793gxCTcOjTYHxYWQ1FHneMMDBtfBanikwW5PWJca_A' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">It
would be hard to ignore or to sleep through it. A quick swipe in response to that prompt, and you immediately see what the problem is:-</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLb4h1GbuhFM1XlDs_WkLlOX_R6PDXc2hugiS13Z4qMAGstiZvYB5vduwxLAmAPuGFfWjxUcWceWwiTk5LXpTMPKpf98IY2kZN8Ea7E43VMo79zM49ZMAk3m6rX2v8PICYgO-g2uRKORQ/s2048/20210105_151311.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLb4h1GbuhFM1XlDs_WkLlOX_R6PDXc2hugiS13Z4qMAGstiZvYB5vduwxLAmAPuGFfWjxUcWceWwiTk5LXpTMPKpf98IY2kZN8Ea7E43VMo79zM49ZMAk3m6rX2v8PICYgO-g2uRKORQ/w300-h400/20210105_151311.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">So with some small satisfaction, on my first
night wearing it, I turned off the 1:30 am alarm which had been on my phone for
almost 20 years, safe in the knowledge that I would be awoken if my BG was
falling, a problem from which I have on occasions suffered, and which twice in
my early days with diabetes led to alarming (for my wife!!!) seizures. I am
pleased to say it didn't go off, and I had a good night's sleep. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><b><i>PS - on the second night the alarm did go off, at 1:05, waking me and startling Mrs L. I had sort-of hoped it would, and accidentally-on purpose didn't have a bed-time snack as I normally do, despite a relatively low reading at that time. So another slightly risky induced low and it really has proved its worth.</i></b><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">So
yes, in that sense, a big improvement in my diabetes management: one less
hassle (that 1:30 am alarm was a minor irritant) and one less worry. FreeStyle
Libre 2 will indeed <b><i><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pIgZ7gMze7A"><span style="color: red;">Wake me up, before I go-go</span></a></i></b> too low. There you go - a
song title for this post, as always. Who needs an excuse to watch George Michael and Wham! at their 1984 best?<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">Any
disadvantages? <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">Well
basically that you still have to swipe and read to find out what the level actually
is, although self-evidently if it triggers at 3.9 or whatever, that's what your
level must be if you swipe immediately. The trend arrow (still in my view the
most important feature of Libre) tells you whether it's falling sharply or
gently, but if a low alarm sounds it would be unwise to ignore and do nothing. If you want warning before it gets that low, set it at a higher trigger level;
I am always fine at 3.9 and nowhere near needing assistance at that level, but
YDMV so others might wish to be warned before it gets that low.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">Personally
I would find high alarms annoying. Highs are not immediately threatening in the
way that lows are, and I don't need a device to tell me when I'm thirsty,
blurry-eyed and generally feeling like I've got a hangover without the
pleasurable memory of a good night out. I may yet set up a high alarm, maybe at a level higher than I normally venture, for me maybe towards 20.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">You
can only have alarms on one device, the one you scan first at start-up. I use
the phone app most of the time, but as I said earlier, I opted, with this first
sensor, to use a reader as the alarms device. So why did I ask for a new reader?
<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">Two
things: <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">Firstly,
I find it easier and more instant than the phone app. On my phone, getting a
reading is sometimes a bit hit and miss as you try to hit the sweet spot of NFC,
whereas the reader is always very quick to pick up a reading once it's near the
sensor. I think the Libre 2 one is even better at this than its predecessor, but
mine was getting on a bit (6 years old). In the night, I want quick and instant
access, and keeping a reader by my bed makes it easy to check having barely woken
up. Moreover, I resist using a phone at night. If you're not careful, whilst
checking BG you see a message or breaking news notification that tempts you to
open it, and before you know it, you're wide awake and fretting about something
or someone. I choose to shut down my link to the outside world at bedtime and I
prefer to keep it that way if possible.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">Secondly,
driving. I covered this aspect in a blog post once before (it's <b><i><a href="https://adrianlong3.blogspot.com/2019/03/i-like-driving-in-my-car-glucose.html"><span style="color: red;">here</span></a></i></b>) and it
launched some debate and dissent. However, when I do resume driving further
than the two miles to my local supermarket or pharmacy, I believe that Libre 2
will add another level of safety. I shall keep the reader on my dashboard where
it will warn me if I have failed to recognise a falling BG level. (I might even
set it at the proverbial “5 to drive”) and the same reasons why I avoid the
phone at night apply even more when driving. Indeed, as I said in that previous
post, to hold a phone for any reason whilst driving is illegal, whereas to hold
a Libre reader isn't (it’s not an internet-connected communication device). If
the alarm has gone off, a driver could check it with minimal disruption to
concentration whilst driving, for example on a quiet, straight road, by pulling
in if safe to do so, or dare I say on a straight and quiet motorway. No more
dangerous than eating a sweet, sipping water, glancing at the SatNav, changing
radio station or changing the heating temperature I believe.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">Oh,
and one more reason? It's a tasteful shade of blue, as opposed to the black of Libre 1:<o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_9ZRxTIX3cHiuEakQD5fL8eefHUkvWU4T4ob_QjWRT-oIt35hhSM0ZKBYeXzpXBgPqLhfUqA8JP4aCXBuv6N6G7HJbz4Wi9IHodIPoVVy0oP9uautScuj2a76AY7QjG3YcotTNxXwpRk/s2048/20210105_084216.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_9ZRxTIX3cHiuEakQD5fL8eefHUkvWU4T4ob_QjWRT-oIt35hhSM0ZKBYeXzpXBgPqLhfUqA8JP4aCXBuv6N6G7HJbz4Wi9IHodIPoVVy0oP9uautScuj2a76AY7QjG3YcotTNxXwpRk/w280-h400/20210105_084216.jpg" width="280" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">So
there you have it. Libre 2 is undoubtedly a no-brainer improvement on Libre 1,
and I would assume any current user would wish to change as soon as possible. Those
who fret about alleged inaccuracy and constantly compare Libre readings to finger
prick tests will probably still find reason to criticise it, because it's still
flash not CGM, so the same cautions about time lag between interstitial fluid
and blood glucose apply. But remember BG levels move fast at times for anyone
with T1D, so there will always be discrepancies - try pricking two different
fingers a few seconds apart and you might get a shock at how even that can
vary.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">I
remain a tech-sceptic diabetic: I have never really seen reason to seek pump therapy,
let alone a looping add-on, as I find that the multiple daily injections that I
administer (often well in excess of the basic 5) are of minimal interference
with my life - barely more hassle than going to the loo. All the tech stuff
seems more trouble than it's worth and often appears for some to become more of
an absorption than the condition it purports to render easier to manage. I am famously not really very interested in diabetes, so ironically this makes me prefer MDI for now.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">FreeStyle
Libre does, however, liberate us from the biggest burden and frustrating paradox of diabetes, that
inescapable reality of which I often speak: that the drug which keeps us alive
is also, in day-to-day terms, a constant threat to our wellbeing. All we need
to mitigate that threat is a <i>still small voice</i> to remind us when we are in danger.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">I
hope that most of those who are lucky enough to have FreeStyle Libre on
prescription will experience a smooth switch to Libre 2 sooner rather than
later, and in broader terms, I hope that non-invasive monitoring will rapidly supersede
what already seems to me to be the archaic and messy practice of drawing blood
from our fingers. Basic guidance from Abbott is here:<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><a href="https://www.freestylelibre.co.uk/libre/fsl2Replacement.html"><span style="color: red;"><b><i>https://www.freestylelibre.co.uk/libre/fsl2Replacement.html</i></b></span></a></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">In
conclusion, there are, as always, thanks and acknowledgements to be delivered:</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="text-indent: -18pt;">Firstly, to the team at Abbott, who have brought to the
market a device which is both valued by patients and affordable to publicly funded
healthcare systems across the world. The company has been criticised when any
issues occur, notably with sensor supplies, and the fact of their having a monopoly
on a prescription device has been questioned, but in my experience, they have
continued to listen to feedback, and to innovate and evolve the product in
response to feedback. Libre 3, a refinement of 2, has been approved and is already
on its way in due course.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="text-indent: -18pt;">Secondly, to HCPs who have recognised the potential value
of having non-invasive monitoring available at an affordable cost to a mass
market; they were led by </span><b style="text-indent: -18pt;"><i><a href="https://twitter.com/parthaskar"><span style="color: red;">Professor Partha Kar, OBE</span></a></i></b><span style="text-indent: -18pt;">, who
despite his constant claims to be “just doing his job” took on the task of
getting Libre approved by the NHS and rattled enough cages to make it happen,
driven by the interests of those whom he serves, not those for whom he works.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">And finally to those patient voices who have in various ways made clear that Libre was a genuine leap forward in diabetes self-management. Libre was launched and expanded in the full glare of social media, and particularly in the early days, people only became aware of its existence through online communities. Early adopters like <b style="text-indent: -18pt;"><i><a href="https://twitter.com/ninjabetic1"><span style="color: red;">Laura Cleverly</span></a></i></b><span style="text-indent: -18pt;"> taught others about it through You Tube videos, and I for one first saw a Libre on the arms of friends like </span><b style="text-indent: -18pt;"><i><u><a href="https://twitter.com/the_only_abi"><span style="color: red;">Abby Brown</span></a></u></i></b><span style="text-indent: -18pt;">, </span><a href="https://twitter.com/t1pippop" style="text-indent: -18pt;"><b><i><span style="color: red;">Philippa Robilliard</span></i></b></a><span style="text-indent: -18pt;"> and </span><b style="text-indent: -18pt;"><i><a href="https://twitter.com/LwSweetpea88"><span style="color: red;">Lindsay Wilson</span></a></i></b><span style="text-indent: -18pt;"> at the first GBDoc get-together in 2015. More recently, </span><a href="https://twitter.com/cahmn" style="text-indent: -18pt;"><b><i><span style="color: red;">Nick Cahm</span></i></b></a><span style="text-indent: -18pt;"> did much to ensure that the NHS availability became much less of a lottery by his relentless number-crunching, and he has continued to be an authoritative voice on all matters Libre on social media.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="text-indent: -18pt;">The success of FreeStyle Libre has taught us much about the value of partnership and teamwork in healthcare. A good news story amidst very dark times.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><i><u>Note</u>:</i></b><span style="font-size: x-small;">
<b>please speak to your diabetes care team in order to initiate a change to Libre
2. If you have any questions that I haven't answered, do feel free to get in
touch via comments, or on social media. </b></span></span><o:p></o:p></p><p>
</p><br />
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<!--EndFragment-->Adrianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09507501095053062156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692995260351181594.post-48892729909317496962020-12-17T20:41:00.006+00:002020-12-28T22:06:18.184+00:00The Circle of Life - and death<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">This post is inspired by a poem. As far as I can tell, it's not very well-known. Have a read of it first; its relevance will become apparent if you read what follows. At the end you can click a link and see it being read by a wonderful actor, to whom I am obliquely connected. Read on....</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><b><i>To a poet a thousand years hence</i></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><i>I who am dead a thousand years,</i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><i>And wrote this sweet archaic song,</i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><i>Send you my words for messengers</i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><i>The way I shall not pass along.</i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><i>I care not if you bridge the seas,</i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><i>Or ride secure the cruel sky,</i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><i>Or build consummate palaces</i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><i>Of metal or of masonry.</i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><i>But have you wine and music still,</i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><i>And statues and bright-eyed love,</i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><i>And foolish thoughts of good and ill,</i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><i>And prayers to them who sit above?</i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><i>How shall we conquer? Like a wind</i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><i>That falls at eve our fancies blow,</i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><i>And old Maeonides the blind</i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><i>Said it three thousand years ago.</i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><i>O friend unseen, unborn, unknown,</i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><i>Student of our sweet English tongue,</i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><i>Read out my words at night, alone:</i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><i>I was a poet, I was young.</i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><i>Since I can never see your face,</i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><i>And never shake you by the hand,</i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><i>I send my soul through time and space</i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><i>To greet you. You will understand.</i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><b><span style="font-size: xx-small;">James Elroy Flecker (1884-1915)</span></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><b><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></b></div></div><p style="text-align: justify;">Fourteen years ago today - 18th December 2006 - was the funeral of my father, who had died on the 9th at the age of 86, after a short period of ill-health. Only hindsight imposes patterns on what at the time can seem like chaotic and distressing periods of life: my father’s death came during an extraordinarily difficult month in what proved to be a prolonged and trying few years in the lives of my family and me.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">And yet even at the time I had an intangible sense that all would be well in the grander scheme of things, and that we would all emerge stronger from our trials and tribulations. Fourteen years later I was caused to re-visit the day of farewell to my father in a manner which was positive and life-affirming.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">I shall not dwell on the circumstances of December 2006 in this post: the full story is known to family and close friends, but suffice it to say that the death of my father was by no means the most traumatic event of that month, but that all was well in the end, and I look back on that month with gratitude rather than sadness. Had I been on social media at the time, sharing stuff as we now do, there would have been some interesting posts, to say the least.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">My father’s death came at a time when my late mother was descending into the abyss of Alzheimer’s - a story I have already shared <b><i><u><a href="https://adrianlong3.blogspot.com/2018/09/dont-forget-to-remember-my-mother.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">here</span></a></u></i></b>. On the day of the funeral my brother and I arrived at her house with our respective families, dressed in black and ready to support her through a difficult day as she said farewell to her husband of 54 years. She answered the door with a cheery smile, dressed in casual clothes and said “Oh what a lovely surprise, how nice to see you all”. It soon became apparent that she had no idea why we were there, nor that he had died, despite our having been there a couple of days earlier with the minister preparing his funeral. My wife and sister-in-law took her to her room and helped her to dress appropriately (she had always been a stickler for dressing elegantly, formally and correctly) whilst gently reminding her of what had happened and what lay ahead that day.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">During that minister’s visit two days earlier, despite appearing very confused as to who he was, who we were and why we were all there, she had startled us all with a moment of lucidity by announcing that she would like to read a poem of her choice at the service, reciting some of the words from memory, quoting the title and author in such a way as to enable us easily to identify it by an online search.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">The poem concerned (see above) was previously unknown to me and to any other family members, and she was unable to give any clear reason for wanting to recite it (for example she said she didn’t know whether it was a favourite of our father’s or not), but she was particularly keen on a verse which she said summed up how she felt about being widowed.</p><div style="text-align: center;"><i><b>But have you wine and music still,<br /></b></i><i><b>And statues and bright-eyed love,<br /></b></i><i><b>And foolish thoughts of good and ill,<br /></b></i><i><b>And prayers to them who sit above?</b></i></div><p style="text-align: justify;">The poem is called <b><i>To a Poet a Thousand Years Hence</i></b> by <b><i><u><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/James_Elroy_Flecker"><span style="color: red;">James Elroy Flecker</span></a></u></i></b> (1884-1915), a relatively unknown English poet and novelist whose premature death at 30 is said by some critics to have been a major loss to literature and poetry. My own rudimentary research reveals no reason why my mother would have known or liked his work, with no obvious connection to her other than a shared birthplace. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">Come the day of his funeral, we were all nervous that mother might make a fool of herself, not least given her intermittent lack of awareness of his death, and her growing penchant at that time for speaking out of turn in an inappropriate manner. However, she stepped up to the lectern with grace and composure, and read it perfectly, with all the same expressiveness that she had shown in her pomp as a schoolteacher and choir mistress. Sadly, this proved to be a false dawn, as she rapidly descended into an unimaginably grotesque form of dementia, lasting over six more years with little quality of life, such that her death in 2013 was a merciful release for her and us.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Life moved on as it does, and I had put the funeral and that poem to the back of my mind, regarding it as a strangely enjoyable day on which my father’s life had been suitably celebrated, with our mother showing what proved to be one of the last manifestations of her true self.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">But what goes around comes around in the <b><i><u><a href="https://youtu.be/GibiNy4d4gc"><span style="color: red;">Circle of Life</span></a></u></i></b>, and so fourteen years later that poem suddenly returned to my mind a couple of weeks ago in another circumstance that was desperately sad, yet became strangely uplifting. I don't believe that "everything happens for a reason", because if it does there's some pretty perverse reasoning controlling our lives. However, I do believe in being aware of possible benefits even when at first they are hard to see, such that with hindsight, even the darkest clouds can have a silver lining. For me, many events and experiences in recent years have given me good reason to believe in the existence of silver linings.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">My return to thoughts of December 2006 happened because of <i><b>Lis Warren</b></i>, a woman of similar age to me from Middlesex who has in recent years become a good friend thanks to our shared medical condition - Type One Diabetes. Lis and I got to know each other a few years ago thanks to the growth of an online peer support community of people living with diabetes: our paths have crossed several times at events both real-world and online, and we have many mutual friends. A silver lining indeed. She and I share much more than a medical condition, and in particular we are both lovers of the arts, in particular music; she, indeed, is a musician by profession, a graduate of the Royal Academy of Music and in her working life was an advisor on music education to the Department for Education. Lis and I were two of a small group of people with diabetes and healthcare professionals who set up and ran a project called <b><i><u><a href="https://www.art1st.life/" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">ArT1st</span></a></u></i></b> (follow that link to the website) during the Coronavirus Pandemic, which involved gathering and showcasing artistic work in the performing and visual arts produced by members of the Type One diabetes community: patients, carers and healthcare professionals. Working with this small group, some of them already good friends of mine, others new friends, has been the silverest of linings to this locked-down year.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Tragically, as we were preparing to stage a live end-of-year online event celebrating the success of the project, Lis’s husband John died in late November after a short illness, meaning that our close-knit group felt keenly the loss of one of its members’ loved ones. We wanted to add an element to our show as a gesture to Lis, who remained determined to take part in the show, even though it turned out to be on the very day of her husband’s funeral. It was, indeed, John who had thought up the idea of calling it <i>ArT1st</i> with the clever play on T1. Through the good offices of NHS Specialty Advisor for Diabetes <b><i>Professor Partha Kar</i></b>, who had set up the project, we were able to secure the services of an A-list member of the diabetes community, actor <b><i><u><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/James_Norton_(actor)"><span style="color: red;">James Norton</span></a></u></i></b>, very much a man of the moment thanks to several starring roles in TV and cinema in recent years. James had already proved himself to be a supportive and self-effacing member of the community, and we were therefore delighted when he agreed to read a poem for us. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">But what were we to choose?</p><p style="text-align: justify;">At that point <b><i>To a Poet a Thousand Years Hence</i></b> came back into my mind. I looked it up, to remind myself of its words, and shared my suggestion with a couple of colleagues from the group. Both colleagues readily agreed that it was perfect. Flecker’s words are both a wonderful evocation of the lasting power and value of the arts and a painful reminder that our time on this earth is short and precious. Returning to them after over a decade I was struck again by how good a choice my mother had made, whatever the forever unknown reason for that choice. I remain surprised that it is not better-known.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Flecker’s words remind us that we only tread this earth for a short time, yet what we do, what we say, what we leave behind us can indeed be eternal. Advancing years inevitably expose us to the loss of loved ones; if we are lucky, we do not experience real loss until later life, but experience it we all must. And as we age, we all start to wonder when and how our end will come, whether we will be left alone, or leave others alone, and what - if anything - lives on after our deaths.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">The notion of life after death is a comforting one which sustains many and forms the basis of entire belief systems. We can never prove or refute it. However, of one thing I am more certain than ever: we absolutely do live on in what we leave to others, not in material terms, but in our deeds, our words, the personalities and values that we pass down the generations and, for a gifted few, the works of beauty that we create in art, poetry, sculpture, writings or music. A thousand years or more hence, especially now that mankind has devised such clever ways of preserving all that we produce, we will all live on. We can all now listen to music written and performed by artists long since dead, digitally preserved as fresh as the day they were recorded.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">And every time I catch a look in a photo or a mirror and think “OMG, I’ve turned into my dad”, or every time I hear my own children utter words or express thoughts that I myself might have said, I realise that our earthly bodies are custodians not just of a set of genes, but more importantly of values, talents and ideas which can indeed be immortal.</p><div style="text-align: justify;"><div style="text-align: center;"><i><b>“I send my soul through time and space</b></i></div><i><div style="text-align: center;"><i><b>To greet you…</b></i><i><b>You will understand”</b></i><i><b>.</b></i> </div></i></div><p style="text-align: justify;">Click <span style="color: red;"><a href="https://drive.google.com/file/d/1F-ICmE1qcQWFo0iA6zndUcGHAYF1cmHi/view?usp=sharing"><i><b><span style="color: red;">here</span></b></i></a> </span>to watch James Norton reading this wonderful poem with the peerless expressiveness of the English gentleman that he is, dedicated to my friend Lis, her late husband John, and the diabetes community.</p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><b><u>Note:</u></b> <i>This post was written with the knowledge and approval of Lis Warren, who has expressed her sincere and lasting gratitude for the love and support of the diabetes community during this difficult time</i></span></p>Adrianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09507501095053062156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692995260351181594.post-51932974000529113532020-11-12T14:53:00.038+00:002020-11-14T12:00:04.536+00:00It's Getting Better: thoughts for World Diabetes Day 2020<p style="text-align: justify;">November is <b><i>Diabetes Awareness Month</i></b>, and as happens every year in the first half of the month, leading up to <a href="https://worlddiabetesday.org/" target="_blank"><span style="color: #2b00fe;"><b><i>World Diabetes Day</i></b></span></a> on November 14th, there is a growing frenzy of activity and excitement in the online world of diabetes. This year, that online world is the only forum in which the diabetes community can interact to any extent, and so this frenzy and hyperactivity seem particularly intense. Moreover, we are approaching the centenary of the discovery of insulin therapy (January 11th 1922), so no doubt next year’s WDD celebrations will be even bigger and better, not least because we can all hope that celebrations will by then be back in the physical world, rather than the virtual one.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Amidst all the frenzy, it’s a good moment to ponder developments in the world of diabetes, in its treatment and care. In so doing it is impossible to avoid noting how much has changed in recent years, and difficult to avoid the conclusion that the pace of that change is accelerating.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">My own thoughts at this time of the year are always shaped by the awareness that I am approaching another anniversary of my own diagnosis, my “diaversary”, which falls on December 19th, this year marking 23 years since I was joined for the second half of my journey through this world by my unwanted friend. Any reflections on what is going on in the diabetes world are necessarily shaped by thoughts on the passing of time, and the increasing longevity of my life with diabetes - I have lived around one third of my life, and more than half of my adult life, with diabetes.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">So, in the words of the late, great David Bowie’s last big hit before his premature passing, <b><i><a href="https://youtu.be/QWtsV50_-p4" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">Where are we now?</span></a></i></b></p><p style="text-align: justify;">I find it very hard to resist being bullish in my response, not least given that healthcare in general is under unprecedented logistical and financial pressure from the global pandemic. In saying so, however, I must qualify it with the very significant caveat that my thoughts apply to those like me living in a prosperous country which provides free healthcare for all. I am painfully aware that any bullishness does not apply to much of the world, including parts of the world like the USA where the state’s prosperity should enable universal healthcare to be a reality. So the thoughts that follow are made in the full and somewhat guilt-ridden awareness of my own relative good fortune.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">When I was diagnosed in 1997, diabetes care and therapy had already advanced significantly beyond what many of my friends who have lived with diabetes for far longer than me can remember. A good diabetes friend, of similar age to me but living with Type One since the age of 2, has lived from the days of testing by urine strips and injecting with large syringes, to nowadays using an insulin pump and a CGM. He keeps an impressive personal archive of some of the primitive-looking gadgetry that kept him alive in his early days.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">My introduction to diabetes came when injection pens with pre-filled cartridges were fully established, and small electronic meters providing rapid and accurate figures on blood glucose level from a finger prick test had become the norm, albeit fairly recently. More importantly in some ways, I came in at a time when advances in insulin types were starting to give far greater flexibility by mirroring with increasing accuracy the workings of the pancreas. Within a year or two of my diagnosis, I had moved to the basal-bolus régime which is essentially the one that I follow to this day. So things were already pretty good for a Type One here in the UK, and I never at any time felt threatened by it; however, better days were to come!</p><p style="text-align: justify;">I am in no doubt that the biggest technological advance in recent years has been the arrival of non-invasive blood glucose monitoring giving more than just a snapshot of levels, and giving it in such a way that it can be done unobtrusively, frequently and painlessly: I refer, of course, to low-cost continuous monitoring devices, and in particular to the FreeStyle Libre flash monitoring system. The advances in diabetes technology have been stunning, and are accelerating as they become cheaper in real terms: this mirrors the way that, in our everyday lives, we all now keep in our pockets a mini computer of infinitely greater power, capacity and capability than the lumbering desktop with its hefty CRT screen that sat on our desks back in 1997. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">Commercially available devices have in turn been the stimulus for creativity and amateur expertise which has enabled patients to drive progress towards closed loop systems, with the prospect of a widely available de-facto artificial pancreas now looking more achievable than the proverbial “ten years from now” cure.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Alongside medical technology, information and communication technology has also made an astounding difference to those of us living with diabetes. When I was diagnosed I felt very much “at the mercy” of diabetes, and therefore very reliant on the input of the doctors and nurses assigned to my care. 1997 was very much in the pre-internet age (I first went “online” in early 1998, and as such I was an early adopter of home computing at a time when the internet was seen by many as the province of nerds and teenagers). My knowledge of diabetes at diagnosis was minimal, and beyond what HCPs told me, my only source of information was the printed word in books and magazines. What a different world it is now, with our first port of call on a medical issue being, for better or worse, Dr Google. These days, a person newly diagnosed would be signposted to a vast amount of information, to websites, to YouTube videos, to blogs, to peer support groups and a whole lot more. The problem must be to decide which resource is good, which is bad and which is ugly.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">However, I believe that an equally important change in recent years is not a matter of kit and technology, but rather a far less tangible change of attitude on the part of both those living with diabetes and those who care for them. The irony is that this, too, has been driven by technology. There are still some who decry the influence of the internet in general and social media in particular, but what strikes me in the context of diabetes is that people have used technology in a very human and personal way, and that it has built bridges and brought people together in a way that harnesses the best that technology has to offer with the best and simplest of human virtues: friendliness.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Back in 1997, I would never have believed how connected we were all destined to become. I would never have believed that I would be talking, during a global pandemic, to people all over the world in little boxes on my computer screen, or that I could be constantly conversing in real-time written messages with friends. These days, my best source of “breaking news” is my best diabuddy whom I only know because we both have diabetes and started talking about it on Twitter. When anything good or bad happens in the news, or in either of our lives, our first response is to message one another. Many other people with diabetes enjoy similar, relatively new, but close, friendships.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">But it’s not just peer-to-peer: we in the UK are privileged to have an online diabetes community in which patients and healthcare professionals interact freely, safe in the knowledge that each has something equally important to bring to the relationship: lived experience on the part of the patient and clinical expertise on the part of the professional. I count myself blessed with the personal friendship of many HCPs whose initial connection to me was through the diabetes community.<br /></p><p style="text-align: justify;">The community has no leaders as such, but is led by many: I shall deliberately avoid mentioning names, but we all know that there are doctors, DSNs and pharmacists of national professional repute who freely share their expertise and time online, yet just as importantly they share their lives, their interests, their passions and much more from well beyond their professional lives. Likewise, we all know that there are people with diabetes - and parents of children with diabetes - who freely share the experience and know-how that comes from living with diabetes, yet also their own personalities, their lives, their passions and much more, again from well beyond their lives with diabetes. During the pandemic, we have seen individual initiatives, notably by the organisers of the weekly tweetchat, like Zoom quizzes and the Fantasy Football league, and also larger initiatives like the <b><i><a href="https://www.art1st.life/" target="_blank"><span style="color: #2b00fe;">Art1st Project</span></a></i></b>, run by a coalition of people with diabetes and healthcare professionals. What these have in common is that they are about the <i>people</i>, not the <i>condition</i>, and it is this generosity of spirit that has enabled the community to flourish despite the inevitable fragmentation that has resulted from its growth in numbers. Alongside the partnership between patients and HCPs, the diabetes charities, <span style="color: #2b00fe;"><b><i><a href="https://www.diabetes.org.uk/" target="_blank"><span style="color: #2b00fe;">Diabetes UK</span>,</a></i></b></span> <a href="https://jdrf.org.uk/information-support/newly-diagnosed/support-newly-diagnosed-children/?gclid=CjwKCAiA17P9BRB2EiwAMvwNyFi7_rOM6dC27O1ZEKdIpXxR6ATUopNDc3nTrft5fHIdRSp0tpIUUxoCN7kQAvD_BwE" style="color: #2b00fe; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;" target="_blank">JDRF</a>, and <a href="https://www.drwf.org.uk/" style="color: #2b00fe; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;" target="_blank">DRWF</a> have also become part of the community, not least through the personal and personable engagement with patients by their staff and leaders.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">The blend of timeless human virtues - kindness, sharing, listening - with technology has given us a world unrecognisable from that of only a decade or so ago. Spending so much time alone at home this year, as we have all been compelled to do, I have come quite close to feeling grateful to diabetes for giving me some of the best friends I have ever made. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">When we finally emerge into the post-Covid world - sooner rather than later, we hope - it will be in many ways different, but we can surely hope that the blend of technology-driven remote connectivity and the warm relationships that technology has help to foster will leave us with the best of both worlds.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">I was going to entitle this post <i>Where are we now</i>, taken from that rather bleak but wonderful Bowie song referenced earlier, but given that the announcement of a breakthrough on a Covid-19 vaccine came after I had started writing it, but before I finished it, another song came into my head, and I prefer to leave that as my customary song title for this post: the uplifting 1969 classic by (Mama) Cass Elliot which speaks, I hope, of where we are heading in the pandemic, and in diabetes care: <i><a href="https://youtu.be/xqOMuR5Z530" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;"><b>It’s Getting Better</b></span></a></i>.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Happy World Diabetes Day, everyone! With thanks to all who are working so tirelessly to support people with diabetes.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW_UYB7FOu5x4g9HHYuiRdlCV9Rl0I-yES1ciFgroZe_j17ZdSFrvibL10qEelVoYTAytRT2EabTKShGNzlopbU1N-jK6HY9Lr9eUNCMZe7S1bYSzRj42jYaUWz4kKbC1JyJZ-JX_m3PE/s2048/Wdd+Blog1.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1448" data-original-width="2048" height="283" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW_UYB7FOu5x4g9HHYuiRdlCV9Rl0I-yES1ciFgroZe_j17ZdSFrvibL10qEelVoYTAytRT2EabTKShGNzlopbU1N-jK6HY9Lr9eUNCMZe7S1bYSzRj42jYaUWz4kKbC1JyJZ-JX_m3PE/w400-h283/Wdd+Blog1.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">People places and events from my world of Diabetes<br /></span></i></b></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div>Adrianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09507501095053062156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692995260351181594.post-15898077465954015512020-08-25T14:39:00.005+01:002020-08-25T21:21:16.991+01:00When will I see you again? - Diabetes care and the Pandemic<div style="text-align: justify;">Six months and counting..... </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">As we popped our Prosecco corks with the clock striking midnight last New Year’s Eve, none of us had any idea what 2020 had in store for us. We have now lived for half a year in a period of unprecedented collective anxiety for all but the diminishing number who remember the severe privations and genuine suffering of the Second World War. Our world as summer turns to autumn looks and feels shockingly different to that of last winter. The list of new words and concepts with which we have become familiar is lengthy, and we have all become accustomed to routines, behaviours and attitudes which would have seemed utterly alien to us on New Year’s Day 2020. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5S7PrmgHvnMpEIvt2-FT7v2WnynHaCoM71e5rV1YwXwx2wgcLT5EU0p_G8o0vO3d8U-0DHFDm4uKqlHjSGAAaxq7xBDLTbBdUYPglao-9hgegkBaAj2_yQwZKj8LDdNJz8Vlf0TT0XRI/s1568/20200825_142004.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1535" data-original-width="1568" height="402" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5S7PrmgHvnMpEIvt2-FT7v2WnynHaCoM71e5rV1YwXwx2wgcLT5EU0p_G8o0vO3d8U-0DHFDm4uKqlHjSGAAaxq7xBDLTbBdUYPglao-9hgegkBaAj2_yQwZKj8LDdNJz8Vlf0TT0XRI/w410-h402/20200825_142004.jpg" width="410" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">What would I have thought of this selfie back in January?</span></i></b></td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />Tens of thousands have died in the UK alone, and many, many more have suffered, either from the effects of the Covid-19 Virus itself or from secondary consequences such as delayed diagnosis, postponed or cancelled treatments and indeed subtle longer term psycho-social difficulties yet to be fully recognised or understood. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">It’s not exactly been the jolliest year of our lives, and as we enter autumn here in the UK, with the Virus better understood and to an extent better controlled than it was earlier in the year, we are nevertheless facing questions, anxieties and uncertainties well into the future. A life of carefree interaction with our fellow human beings seem a distant memory and an even more distant future prospect.
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">For those of us living with other medical conditions like diabetes, there have been well-publicised extra layers of uncertainty, and I for one have found myself more concerned about my own welfare, more careful about my own actions and choices than at any time since my diagnosis almost 23 years ago. In many ways, we who live with diabetes have been very well-served: there has been wonderful support from healthcare professionals in the online diabetes community, who have transferred their habitual enthusiasm and energy to online versions of their normal activities; the diabetes charities have been excellent sources of information and encouragement, despite suffering from significant loss of income and of course the patient community has displayed mutual supportiveness and information-sharing as always. I have been thankful for the online connectivity which we now take for granted, and contacts made through the world of diabetes have been a source of friendship throughout these difficult months, for which I am enormously grateful. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Before we feel too sorry for ourselves, it is worth pondering what a lockdown of similar extent and severity would have been like in the pre-internet days of the not-too-distant past: no WhatsApp groups, no video calls, no instant online sharing of information, memes and funny videos, no working from home, no remote learning. Even twenty years ago, that would have been the reality of a similar scale pandemic and lockdown. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">If nothing else, surely one of the positives of the pandemic will be to convince even the most grumpy luddites that the information age is an overwhelmingly good thing, and that smartphones, tablets and laptops are a modern-day blessing, a miraculous tool for social interaction and information sharing, whose obvious faults and disadvantages are not the fault of the medium itself, but rather of the human imperfections or evils of those who use them. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I have taken great delight during the pandemic in chatting over the garden fence with my octogenarian next-door neighbour about stuff he has found on the internet, or how much he appreciated an online video consultation with his doctor. He recently told me that he had bought a Bluetooth speaker and had googled the origins of the word Bluetooth (a 10th Century Scandinavian King in case you’re wondering). I was also delighted to receive a Facebook friend request from another octogenarian neighbour who had signed up and stumbled across me on a neighbourhood group. I really hope that the pandemic will hasten the demise of the “digital divide”, not just in terms of the older generation but also in terms of those afflicted by poverty and deprivation. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">So the pandemic has certainly taught us to value the internet. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Now I am an irrepressible optimist. It annoys those close to me at times, but I often genuinely find doom and gloom about stuff a greater burden than the stuff itself. And this is definitely true of the pandemic. I have become far more annoyed and frustrated about the epidemic of opinion from self-appointed experts than with the disease itself. So doom and gloom is not for me, and I am already starting to look for the good that can come out of this pandemic. It’s not easy, but that shouldn’t stop us all trying:
I was moved to write this post having filled in a survey for Diabetes UK about my experience of diabetes care during the pandemic. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Here’s the link if you haven’t seen it – a short and easy survey:</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://t.co/0z17jYg22v"><span style="color: #2b00fe;"><b><i>https://t.co/0z17jYg22v</i></b></span></a> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I must say that filling it in made me somewhat frustrated, not least because a few weeks ago I had attempted to get some information from my hospital concerning their plans for re-scheduling clinic appointments (my last was in early December), and I received a rather vague reply indicating that I was on a list for a re-scheduled appointment “in due course”. A follow-up enquiry about the potential use of video or telephone consultation was deflected in the classic bureaucratic manner <i>“We are also looking into the option of using video consultation within our service however plans have not yet been finalised”</i>, whilst my suggestion that they might consider using LibreView to share my data was ignored in a manner which suggested that I was proposing something truly subversive and revolutionary. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Surely, diabetes care is a prime case for the rapid adoption of new ways of communicating and sharing that we have all taken on over the past six months. For a diabetes patient such as me, fortunate at the moment to be living well with Type One, a six monthly face-to-face at the hospital as well as an annual review with my GP is an unnecessary burden on the system, and arguably upon me. A five minute appointment with a phlebotomist at my GP could yield my HbA1c result, and, together with a look at my LibreView data, would form the basis of a discussion which could surely be just as effective remotely as it is in a hospital ten miles from my home. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Now of course, there are multiple caveats. My own condition is, for now, good, but might not always be so, and there are aspects that cannot happen remotely. Nobody can check my feet, my injection sites, my eyes, and in many ways most importantly, my emotional welfare, over the phone or through a shadowy face on a screen. Some sort of triage could surely be applied to people with diabetes, such that those in most need would be seen face to face, whilst others would be seen remotely. And I am not proposing online only consultations: if we are seen six monthly, then surely an annual face-to-face, with an interim online in between, makes perfect sense. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Above all, we must NEVER, in healthcare or elsewhere, allow on-screen interactions to replace face-to-face ones. Zoom, Facetime, Skype, WhatsApp or whatever are wonderful, but nothing can get near to replicating the multiple subtleties of human interaction: badly-lit faces in front of a bookshelf cannot convey body language, subtly raised eyebrows, non-verbal reactions, fear, anxiety, reluctant agreement, embarrassment. We are beautifully subtle creatures who thrive on our interactions with each other, and the human physiognomy is a truly wonderful and subtle thing. I for one am longing for a world in which I can once again see people in the real world, out from behind their masks and visors, or out from behind their webcams. I am very glad that I am retired from teaching, as I would have hated to teach from behind a mask, or to teach young people whose faces, whose reactions and responses are hidden by a piece of cloth. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">So please let’s try to take the best of what we have had to get used to during the pandemic, but also be sure to discard the worst as soon as it is safe to do so. I’ve had more than enough of zoom calls already. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijlLvJddyHaXzTOXIotQV-_DdpiSfsgV6YMHvexDoAI4_Fl7uJxz4vgU_Y0Mfxqe3Ndj2JJr1CbVme17FcsHfP8eGn-Asv8S_-0_lE8EFIO-kjyEd5OJmikghogus_wyJyHp20O-NJdTY/s926/FB_IMG_1592124754641.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="663" data-original-width="926" height="366" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijlLvJddyHaXzTOXIotQV-_DdpiSfsgV6YMHvexDoAI4_Fl7uJxz4vgU_Y0Mfxqe3Ndj2JJr1CbVme17FcsHfP8eGn-Asv8S_-0_lE8EFIO-kjyEd5OJmikghogus_wyJyHp20O-NJdTY/w512-h366/FB_IMG_1592124754641.jpg" width="512" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>A Zoom Meeting of Diabuddies from across Europe and beyond</b></span></i><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">My enduring emotion is that of the Three Degrees song which forms the title of this post, and is a plea which applies to my healthcare team, just as much as to the many friends and acquaintances whom I am missing so much: <b><i><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=51N4F6FyI40" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">When will I see you again?</span></a></i></b></div>Adrianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09507501095053062156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692995260351181594.post-91531031794609862562020-07-13T14:20:00.005+01:002020-07-14T09:14:16.249+01:00"He ain't heavy, he's my brother" - who cares for the carers?<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQqoxvFza8Cy0M5Sv5bVGBM_coPYOzFwA-RuCw49Vd_C_kdrAMxYXWCdBcHpDpMco7oQm-I9fCZjtVygn5HKKu3Mp4l-yJ19sppkMkMhfOX2Ca6KNHP7ira2HZIKaoBoEhmjZHV6MmawY/s1280/Lis+Warren+%25281%2529.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1280" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQqoxvFza8Cy0M5Sv5bVGBM_coPYOzFwA-RuCw49Vd_C_kdrAMxYXWCdBcHpDpMco7oQm-I9fCZjtVygn5HKKu3Mp4l-yJ19sppkMkMhfOX2Ca6KNHP7ira2HZIKaoBoEhmjZHV6MmawY/w400-h400/Lis+Warren+%25281%2529.jpeg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><b><font size="2">Photo Collage by my friend Lis Warren</font></b></i><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 18px;">It is self-evident to say that we are living through strange and troubling times: you need to be over 80 to have any significant recollection of the Second World War, so for most of us, the COVID-19 pandemic and its associated lockdown is by some distance the most significant, disruptive and worrying collective experience of our lives. We must, of course, be careful not to overstate its impact upon us or our own level of suffering and deprivation: those of us fortunate enough to have unaffected income, a home with outdoor space and the company of others, together with the means and ability to connect with others through the online world should not be tempted too much into the realms of self-pity. The privations and worries of our grandparents in wartime were infinitely greater.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">If we and our loved ones have not (yet)
succumbed to the illness, all that has really happened to us is that we have
stayed at home, saved a lot of discretionary expenditure on leisure activities
and tended our homes and gardens to within an inch of their lives. My own
extensive garden has never been so well tended, many of the boxes which were dumped
in the loft or the garage when we moved house three years ago have been tidied
and sorted, and many a neglected DIY task has been sorted. So despite
occasionally feeling sorry for myself, reflecting on missed outings and
holidays, friends and family not seen, I have (so far) little to complain
about.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">Yet for many, it is not so. In the UK
alone, a horrendous death toll means that there are tens of thousands mourning
the premature loss of a loved one, and tens of thousands more are still struggling
to overcome the lingering and in some cases life-changing consequences of
COVID-19.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">And whilst I, and many others, have had
to do no more than just stay at home and forego some discretionary pleasures,
many others have seen their workload increase, their working conditions and
practices changed beyond recognition and the level of stress and strain hugely
increased.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">There has been, quite rightly, much
said and done to recognise the efforts of our so-called “key workers”, most
obviously in the health and social care sectors, but also those who provide our
essential needs - the shop workers, the delivery drivers, the teachers, the IT
people who have kept the internet running seamlessly, the refuse collectors,
those in the media who have kept us informed and entertained - the list is
endless. The very least that the rest of us could do was to stand on our
doorsteps every Thursday and applaud, however much that at times felt like a
rather empty “look at me” gesture, akin to the way in which some feel compelled
to modify their social media profile picture in response to some cause or
other.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">It is, of course, far too early for
anyone to write the history of the pandemic, not least as it hasn’t even
reached its peak globally, and remains a significant threat locally here in the
UK. However, I hope that when we are able to look back on 2020 - let’s hope it
is only 2020 - we may at least be able to see it as the start of a more caring
society compared to that which appeared to have been evolving in the “take back
control” and “America first” world of the past decade or so. Surely, if we have
learned anything from the pandemic, it is that there absolutely IS such a thing
as society, whatever the late Mrs T meant by her notorious “no such thing”
line. We have seen a relatively young Prime Minister, the Heir to the Throne, the
Health Secretary and the Chief Medical Officer all laid low by the infection in a
manner which reminded us that in the face of a virulent disease, we are all
in equal need of the expertise of doctors but equally the care and dedication
of all who work in healthcare, from the consultant to the ward cleaner.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">We are all links in a very long and
fragile chain. Advanced human society is built upon each and every one of us
performing a particular and specialised role, and therefore depending on others
who perform another equally specialised role, and those upon whom we depend are
often those whose role is most easily overlooked - until they are unable to do
it.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">I remember once hearing - on an
“Understanding Industry” course - that in any organisation, the person whose
absence is most immediately noticed is not the person at the top, but rather
those supposedly at the bottom. In a school, the Caretaker’s absence would be
immediately noticed, as it’s he or she who opens the building at the crack of
dawn. A Headteacher could be absent for several days without any pupil
noticing. In a hospital, the consultant surgeon cannot do her or his job if the
laundry people haven’t provided clean scrubs. One could make similar points
about every workplace or organisation.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">Of course, we must not from this
conclude that those at the top - the leaders, the experts, the bosses - don’t
matter as much as the rank and file. Of course they do, and surely another
thing that we have learned from the pandemic is that we have not, as some tried
to argue at the time of the EU Referendum, “had enough of experts”. We need our
experts and wise leadership more than ever.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">But what we do all need is to CARE for
and about each other.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">There’s a commonly used Latin
expression <i>Quis custodiet…, </i>abbreviated from<i> Quis
custodiet ipsos custodes </i>which rightly asks “who keeps an eye on the
guards?”, reminding us that even those who supposedly act in our interest should
themselves be held to account.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">Well equally importantly at all times,
and especially of late, is <i>“who cares for the carers?”</i> It’s a
very pertinent question: my son once put it very well by saying “Who gives
Father Christmas a Christmas present?”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">We are all enormously indebted to
carers in the broadest sense at present, be they experts working on the
longed-for vaccine, scientists and politicians trying to figure out what it is
safe and prudent to do when, van drivers bringing our online orders, nurses and
doctors tending the sick, pharmacists keeping us supplied with our
life-preserving medication, charity employees and volunteers keeping their
vital work going in the face of devastating loss of income, but equally
importantly the millions doing their ordinary jobs: people like my son and younger
daughter working in their schools or my elder daughter helping to keep a major university's life and vibrancy going in the post-corona world, or volunteers like my wife sewing scrubs and
masks for the NHS, or a friend of mine who lives with Stage 4 cancer and is
using her online voice to campaign for the resumption of full diagnosis and
cancer care for others. Then there are also all those whom I have seen and
heard just quietly doing their bit, maybe by helping those being shielded,
sharing fun stuff online or generally just <i>being kind</i>. These, in
the broadest sense, are the carers.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">So we must all remember to <i>care
for the carers</i>. They are not heroes, and they have no superpowers. They are
just human beings, with the same frailty, doubt, guilt, imposter syndrome and
anxiousness that we all feel at times. I was moved to write this post after
seeing evidence of such things in the much-maligned but essential world of
social media. I have in recent times spoken with friends who are on the
proverbial frontline and I have seen from their social media posts, public and
private, first-hand evidence of the stresses and strains of their lives and
work. I have also seen honest online expressions of self-doubt from an eminent
NHS consultant and from a friend who is a tireless and enthusiastic advocate
for others living with diabetes, who suddenly found herself creaking under the
strain. Equally importantly I have seen evidence of supportive acts of kindness
towards these people: I have seen those who give care being cared for, and it
is surely very important that we all remember that they too have their needs.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">So this post is for the carers. It has
been my pleasure and privilege in recent years to become friends with many who
work in the NHS as doctors and nurses, thanks to my small involvement in the
diabetes community, and I have watched in awe as these people - if you are
reading this you know who you are - not just do their jobs, but go way beyond
the call of duty to ensure that the rest of us are cared for.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">My Latin teacher wife thinks that <i>Quis
curabit ipsos curatores </i>just about works as a Latin motto for “who
cares for the carers?” so there’s a good title, but being me, I also need a
song title for this post. How about the Hollies’ 1969 classic <b><i><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ifyUPYXwdIc" target="_blank"><font color="#b51200">He ain’t heavy, he’s my brother</font></a></i></b>. It immediately came to my mind when I saw that much-shared
picture of a black man carrying an injured white counter-demonstrator at the
"Black Lives Matter" demonstration a few weeks ago. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">It’s a wonderful song, an entire sermon
in 4 ½ minutes, all about sharing the burdens of others. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglzgp0jiTXF7FnIRF3qs4G6yLbU2NAOqsXaKXOiE1ETEZCyG2aEja0V3zUnG3AwCIAKihI0GxtYYinZx9bUabSbUsA-prXNgaDJ1e8uhD2PXTG9Jlg_D_Av54lKsfzC29TP7cv3gjXeAA/s700/london-protests-black-lives-matter-waterloo-protester-carried-from-demonstration.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="394" data-original-width="700" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglzgp0jiTXF7FnIRF3qs4G6yLbU2NAOqsXaKXOiE1ETEZCyG2aEja0V3zUnG3AwCIAKihI0GxtYYinZx9bUabSbUsA-prXNgaDJ1e8uhD2PXTG9Jlg_D_Av54lKsfzC29TP7cv3gjXeAA/w400-h225/london-protests-black-lives-matter-waterloo-protester-carried-from-demonstration.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><font size="2"><b>He ain't heavy - He's my brother</b></font><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></p>Adrianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09507501095053062156noreply@blogger.com2